


No matter what the circumstances

by JAinsel



Series: Norton University [1]
Category: Shameless (US), Shameless - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Car Accident, Christmas, F/M, Gen, Ian's POV (for the most part), Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Rowing, Sexual Content, deeply closeted Mickey, frat boy Mickey, not for the sex tho, rich!Mickey, rich!ian, slow burn? kind of?, that's right from the start, they're rich so they can go on vacation wherever they want, tw: racial slurs etc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 130,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4371035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JAinsel/pseuds/JAinsel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Ian and Mickey are not poor but wealthy.<br/>What if they are both in college.<br/>What if it doesn't really matter how they meet because we know how they'll end up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Norton University

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much WeMightAswellBeStrangers Soph to be my beta.  
> How do they say? "You the real MVP!"
> 
> This is my first fiction. Here, ever. Shameless made me do it. Mickey and Ian, you evil bastards! I hate/love you both so much!

Life could have been better. But then again, Ian supposed it could have been much, much worse.

True, he had to forget his dream of becoming a Marine officer.

True, he had been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder.

And true, he still had to sort his shit out, find a new goal for his life. He had always been task-oriented and he needed to follow a direction.

Yet, he didn’t have to care about money.

He had a family who was trying to support him.

And after his failure with West Point, he had enrolled in college, even if it was two years later than usual.

It was always better to focus on the positive aspects of one’s life, but the eagle with a rifle inked on his skin, and the the two rounds of meds he had to take each day, were a constant reminder that life was not peachy as he would have liked to believe.

Ian had started college almost five months ago, deciding that; fuck it, the army didn’t want him? He was going to follow them anyway. He could no longer be an officer, but he could still get to the front lines of battle as a war reporter. His family was not happy with his decision, too many triggers for him on a job like that, but Ian wanted at least to try. At least in the next four years he could come to understand himself, what he was capable of, and what his limits were.

Boston was cold as fuck in December but he didn’t really mind. Actually, breathing the chilly air and feeling his face freezing was a nicer sensation than being suffocated inside a class full of students.

He walked through the college campus, swinging a left, then right, and opening the door where his Arabic Culture class would be starting in a few minutes. He looked around and noticed two waving hands on the left wing. Ian smiled at the two guys when he took the seat next to them.

“Thanks for saving me a seat,” he murmured as he pulled his notebook out of his bag.

“Yeah we didn’t want your perfect ass too far from us,” replied Sam, the blonde closest to him, in his usual flirty tone. “By the way, you look gorgeous in that shirt.”

Sam softly touched Ian’s clothed chest, causing him to roll his eyes. Sometimes he found Sam too gay for his own taste, but he was a good friend. The other guy, Ryan, was too. Except for those death glares he would send in Ian’s direction whenever Sam was flirting with him.  _ Like now . _

“Hey,” Ryan just said in greeting. Ian replied in the same manner

The professor entered the room, walking towards the blackboard. His brown eyes glanced up and found Ian’s, before moving them to assess the whole class. Nobody was paying attention to him. As usual.

“Ok, guys. The lesson is starting…” began.

Nothing. The chattering of the student body continued.

“I would really appreciated if once you could just be silent…”

Nope.

“C’mon… Not every time!”

A loud whistle caused the much desired silence. But it wasn’t professor Karib who had emitted the piercing sound. The whistle came from the left wing, and the professor turned his face to find Ian winking at him.

The professor coughed hastily to cover his dumb smile and, now the center of the attention, started his lesson.

 

***

 

The professor was putting his papers back in his briefcase so slowly, that if someone actually bothered to pay him any attention, they would have thought he was retarded.

Not Ian, though.

He headed out of the classroom, then told his friends he had left a pen there. He hastily made plans to meet them for lunch and went back.

The classroom was empty except for the professor.

“Professor Karib,” Ian said in a husky voice, approaching the man behind the desk.

The professor smiled at the address and closed the distance between the two of them.

“You know, you can call me by my name when we’re alone,” he said in the same low tone, putting his forearms on Ian’s shoulders. One hand gently curling the student’s red hair.

“Kash.”

Ian leaned in to kiss him. A soft kiss. An affectionate one.

They had started their affair two months prior. It was a little difficult for Ian to ignore those languid, long stares in his direction from the professor during the lesson. Normally, a guy like Kash wouldn’t have stood a chance with someone like Ian. Circumstances where different now, though. Ian had been on meds for a little more than a year and during that time he hadn’t tried to fuck anyone. He loved sex as a teenager and had become reckless when his bipolar symptoms had kicked in. After starting with the treatment, he was scared to have sex again. Not the act itself per se, but the fact that sex was one of his biggest triggers. The months passed in full mania had been filled with unprotected sex, participation in porn and blackouts caused by heavy drugs, making him wake up with pain in his groin and fuzzy memories laced with shame.

Ian stayed celibate until he met Kash. The professor was not hot and not even remotely funny, but he was nice, ordinary, and faithful. Well, as long as it’s possible to define a gay married man with kids and a lover faithful. Even in this situation, Kash was steady. Fucking him was not mind blowing, but it was enjoyable Safe.

It wasn’t bad.

The sound of the door opening made the two of them jump away from each other.

A guy they both recognized strolled in confidently, and they both froze. 

The dark-haired intruder smirked, looking them up and down slowly.

“Hey, Towelhead. Gallagher…” He grinned obnoxiously.

“What do you need Milkovich?” Kash replied, composing himself.

“Nothing from you. Yet.” He nodded towards the higher seats “Just wanna nap here. No lesson for the next hour.”

Kash relaxed, and picked up his folders and bag, gingerly leaving the room. Ian stood awkwardly, alone with the guy. He watched as the guy went up to the seats at the back of the room.  _ How the hell did someone with so much money dress like a homeless person? _ He thought distastefully. Ian knew it was pretty gay of him to think that, but really, that brownish sweater was horrible. It looked like he had been wearing it for years.

“The fuck are you looking at?”

The black-haired guy had noticed Ian studying him, and was now looking at him with his eyebrows arched. He had the most expressive eyebrows Ian had ever seen. Swear to God.

“Nothing, Mickey.” Ian shrugged, turning his gaze away from him.

“Well, then fuck off.” Mickey motioned for Ian to go with the flip of his middle finger.

When Ian was almost at the door, Mickey called out after him.

“Ay, remember, Gallagher. You make my sister cry, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Ian just rolled his eyes, nodded and closed the door behind him.

 

***

 

Kash may have had a wife, but Ian had a girlfriend.

Well, a beard, to be precise.

He had met Mandy Milkovich at the end of an English class. The assistant professor had cornered the black-haired girl to “talk about Shakespeare” and she looked as uncomfortable as shit at his attention, as he stood too close to her. 

Since apparently Ian couldn’t escape from his White Knight side of him, he stepped in.

“C’mon, we’re late for the next class, let’s go!” He said loudly, shouldering past the AP and taking her by the arm and pulling her from the room.

She was confused and upset by his attention at first, but she soon smiled and thanked him. Not exactly for the reason he thought, though. She had been about to kick the bastard in the nuts before Ian approached, and she had feared it would not have been good to do that to an assistant professor. 

“So yeah, your solution was way better,” she told him before extending her hand with a grateful smirk.

“Mandy.”

“Ian.”

She quickly became attached to Ian and he thought he had just acquired a new friend. 

Wrong.

She invited him in her room to study and, while both were sitting on her bed, she got up and straddled him, trying to push into him for a kiss, and palming him through his pants.

Ian was so dense with understanding girls that he sat up quickly to rebuff her, making Mandy fall on her ass.

He was about to open his mouth when she screamed.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!”

“Let me just explain…” he tried to say, holding his hands up towards her. 

Mandy threw him a high heels boot at his face with a force he didn’t think a girl could possess.

He backed out of her door quickly, shrugging in disbelief as he turned and walked away.

The next morning he was prepared to track Mandy down to  explain himself. What he was not prepared for was the three guys coming at him with two bats and brass knuckles.

They spotted the redhead easily in the middle of the campus quad, and the short one in the center yelled at him

“Ian Gallagher! You messed with the wrong girl!”

Ian didn’t know who the fuck they were, but sure as hell he didn’t want to find out.

He turned on his heel and started running instinctively. The three guys were visibly strong, but not that fast, and Ian outran them with ease. He lost them after the first couple of minutes, slumping against a wall as he collected his thoughts. _T_ _ he fuck had just happened? _

There was only one possible explanation.

Mandy.

He found the girl at the entrance to her dorm, and he had to grab her by her hand to stop her from walking away from him.

“What the fuck do you want!” Mandy  spat at him angrily.

“What the fuck do I want? Didn’t you send me your three gorillas to beat the shit out of me? What the hell, Mandy!” He retorted roughly.

“You played me! I thought you were interested and…” 

“I’m gay.” Ian interrupted her quietly.

Mandy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“What?”

“Gay, completely, helplessly gay. You’re beautiful Mandy, but not my type.” He replied calmly.

“You think I’m beautiful?” she asked after a few seconds.

“Of course. Listen… Can we just keep on being friends? After you call your gorillas back, of course.”

She smiled a little at that.

“They’re not my gorillas. Well, one’s my brother. He’s kind of a gorilla, I guess. The other two are his fucking puppies. They pledged to his fraternity, so…”

The two of them became best friends. Ian was surprised at how quickly he felt at ease around Mandy; he even told her about his disorder, and his affair with Kash. Mandy always listened without prejudice, and she shared her own stories about her family and especially her piece of shit father., Ian had always thought that his father, Frank, was the worst, but he was wrong. Frank was a drunk and a horrible human being, but her father was a monster of an entirely new level. He was abusive, manipulative, violent. He was part of a White Supremacy group. His first wife divorced him after he had sent her to a hospital left for dead. His last wife, Mandy and Mickey’s mother, killed herself. Terry had already decided the future of his boys, and he didn’t really care about his only daughter.

“As long as I score a husband with money and connections, I can do whatever I want. I guess I should consider myself lucky,” she said in a low voice. Ian hugged her tightly in response.

It was after only a few days of their new friendship that Mandy brought up the subject.

“I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Mandy, I thought we’ve already cleared up that I’m gay.” Ian replied with a surprised smile.

“Yeah I know but… last night a guy was fag-bashed outside his own dorm. And… and if you keep on being friends with me I don’t wanna risk Mickey suspecting that  you’re gay, he’ll fucking kill you, Ian. Not to mention that your relationship with Kash would go a lot smoother. He has a wife, you have a girlfriend… easier, right?”

Ian stayed silent for a few minutes while he thought about Mandy’s words. He wasn’t keeping his sexuality secret, but he wasn’t advertising it either. Being raised in the South Side of Chicago taught him to think twice before announcing he was into dudes… Still, he hadn’t planned on being afraid of who he was at university. 

“I can see how this would benefit me,” he said finally. “But why should you sacrifice yourself?”

Mandy blushed a little, fiddling with a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, nothing much… I mean. These last few days, you’ve felt more of a boyfriend than any other guy I’ve been out with. It’s nice, you know? You’re nice. I’m tired of guys who are after my money or just wanna get under my skirt. I like spending time with you, so…”

That’s when it hit him. Mandy needed him. She felt alone, and she wanted to rely on someone who was not family; someone  she trusted. Again, the knight in shining armor prevailed.

“I still think you’re the one at loss in this deal, but yeah. Why not, girlfriend? Let’s do this.”

The smile that Ian received for that simple sentence, made him sure he had made the right choice.

 

***

 

Inside Professor Karib’s small office, Ian was pulling up his pants, looking down at the man kneeled in front of him. Kash wiped his mouth with an embroidered handkerchief and got up to lean on his messy desk.

“So...” Kash started. Before he could complete his sentence, the door slammed open.

“Towelhead!” Mickey exclaimed.

“Milkovich, uh…”

Kash got interrupted –again- when Mickey noticed a red flushed Ian.

“Gallagher? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Uh… just asking questions?” Ian knew he didn’t sound convincing, but it didn’t seem like Mickey cared.

“Yeah, whatever, nerd. Get the fuck out.” Ian stood in place for a few seconds, looking at Kash for direction. When the other man nodded, he slowly left the room. Fearing for Kash, however, he didn’t go far, planting his ear to the door so he could listen to their exchange.

“So,” Mickey redirected his attention to Kash. “Just wanted to check if our deal was still on. I noticed you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

Kash gulped, nervously shuffling some papers on his desk.

“Uh…” He sighed heavily. “I can’t do this anymore Milkovich. It’s too risky.”

“Risky? You just need to make me fucking pass your stupid exam. It doesn’t take that much, man!”

“I’ve been doing this for years already… Some of the other professors are starting to notice, making some remarks and… my wife is pregnant again. I can’t afford to lose my job.”

“It was your wife’s job before you decided it was better for her to be a stay at home mum, so you could have your little fun here.” Mickey moved closer to Kash. The student was shorter than Kash, but stocky and menacing. Kash was almost climbing the desk to put some space between him and Mickey.

“Don’t forget you got paid for this shit,” Mickey added threateningly.

“I only got paid the first time…”

“Well, you took the money, you greedy bitch. So…” Mickey’s eyes fell from Kash’s to his laptop. The screen was on again, Kash having moved the mouse by mistake in his urge to back away from Mickey. The grin that spread all over the Milkoviches’ face was wider than the Cheshire Cat’s.

“Lookie what we got here.” He leaned to read the open file. “Isn’t this… Uh-oh.”

“Milkovich, please don’t…”

There was a USB drive inserted in the laptop, and in a few little clicks from Mickey, the file was saved on the flash drive.

“Too late, Towelhead.” Mickey stuffed the flash drive in his right pocket and shoved Kash against the wall. “I guess you’ve already submitted the exam. So don’t even try to make things complicated. Okay? You won’t even need to upgrade my sheets this time. All for the best, right?”

Kash didn’t say anything, lowering his head as Mickey patted his shoulder.

“Bye! Always a pleasure to deal with your brown ass.”

When Mickey opened the door, Ian had just a few seconds time to hide behind a fucking statue. He was definitely glad that Mickey went the other way, or the statue wouldn’t have been the safest place to hide.

Ian went back into the office to find Kash slumped on the chair, hands covering his face.

“What the fuck, Kash?!”

Kash looked up to see Ian looking at him in disbelief.

“I heard everything!” Ian growled. “You just let him cheat like that? You’re gonna get in trouble!”

“You don’t understand…”

“Oh no, I do understand. Don’t you have some pride? You got bribed once and now you’re at his service?”

Kash couldn’t look into his eyes. He was fidgeting on the chair, searching for an acceptable excuse .

“C’mon Ian. It’s no big deal. He’ll graduate this year… and I mean, other professors got bribed by that family, I’m sure. Don’t know who for sure, but…”

When he managed to find the strength to look Ian in the eyes again, he found an expression that he never seen in them: disgust.

“God, Kash. You’re such a pussy.”

And with that, Ian stormed out of the office.

 

***

 

The following day, Ian stood nervously in front the building of Sigma Alpha Epsilon, Mickey’s fraternity house. The place looked uninhabited. No one was outside and silence reigned. One would almost think it was deserted, if not for all the sleepy bodies sprawled around the immense living room. Most appeared to be in zombie mode, the heads moving imperceptibly and croaky sounds coming from their mouths. There were kegs on the floor and plastic glasses keeping them company. The smell of weed entered Ian’s nostrils.

He looked around the messy room for Mickey, but apparently he hadn’t participated in the party. Either that, or he simply he wasn’t there.

Ian decided to risk it and went upstairs.

He barely opened each door he found, only pushing them aside enough to peek at the rooms inside. They were all bedrooms. Some with double beds, other single ones.

At the fifth door, the one in the corner, he finally found what –or rather who- he was looking for.

It was probably the biggest bedroom there, with a queen size bed and lot of space filled with all kind of mess: clothes, beer cans, empty packets of cigarettes and many other pieces of useless junk. Ian wondered how someone in their right mental state could voluntarily live in that pig sty. It even  smelled like dirty socks.

Mickey was there on the bed, sprawled on his stomach amongst messy blankets and half-covered pillows. Fully clothed and still wearing his shoes. He probably had had just enough time to crawl into his bed before passing out.

Well, time to wake Sleeping fucking Beauty up.

Ian grabbed a bat that was lying on the floor near his feet. He seriously doubted that it had ever been used in an actual game.

He prodded Mickey lightly with the tip of the bat, causing the comatose man to shift on the bed with a groan.

“The fuck…”

Mickey wrenched open his eyes and looked at his surroundings without really focusing on anything in particular. He was about to yawn, when he noticed Ian, bat in hand.

“… Gallagher?” he asked in surprise. His voice was groggy with sleep.

“Give me the flash drive, Mickey,” Ian managed to say. He was the one with the bat. But he was also in Mickey’s bedroom, with all Mickey’s  fraternity brothers downstairs. He just wanted to solve this quickly; get the flash drive and get the hell out of there.

Scrubbing at his eyes with his fist, Mickey nodded slowly.

“Alright…” He moved towards the bedside table, murmuring “What is it to you anyway?”

Before Ian could come up with an answer, Mickey took him by surprise, punching him straight to the face. Taking advantage of his adversary’s loss of balance, Mickey managed to throw him on the bed. During the movement the bat flew loose from Ian’s hands, landing somewhere in the tangled sheets. 

Mickey moved to straddle Ian, ready to strangle his neck, but Ian used all his weight as a leverage and managed to throw the both of them out of the bed, pushing Mickey onto the sofa. But the frat guy was fast, and charged towards Ian with his fist. Ian slammed him against the wall before he could get punched again. Mickey looked at him like a wounded bull stares at the red flag, and tackled Ian with all his strength onto the bed. He straddled him again, this time fetching the bat to smash his fucking carrot top in.

He would have done it, really.

But the adrenaline rush went straight to his dick, causing an immediate, growing bulge in his pants. It didn’t go unnoticed. Ian looked straight at it, then to Mickey, who was panting hard and not just from the fight. Ian looked back at Mickey’s his groin again. Mickey was daring him to say something, anything, wrong. He was ready to  crack Ian’s head like a watermelon. But the fucking ginger didn’t say anything, not a fucking word. Instead, Ian’s green eyes darkened and his breath took up an irregular pattern.

It wasn’t long before Mickey let the bat fall on the floor, starting to tug off his clothes swiftly. Ian followed his movements, yanking off his own clothes as quickly as he could.

Soon they were both stark naked in front of each other. Mickey gnawed at his bottom lip, taking the sight of Ian in. It was clear that he liked what he was seeing. He took Ian by surprise, slamming him back again onto the bed. This time his intentions were very different.

He hovered over Ian, fumbling in the first drawer of his night table. He shuffled through it, taking out a bunch of condoms and tossing them to Ian, keeping a small bottle of lube in his hands.

Ian noticed the condoms were all different in type and size. It was pretty clear that they weren’t meant for Mickey, not all of them at least. His thoughts flicked over to Kash at the momentary realization that this, here with Mickey, was not a stable situation, and probably something he should avoid. But then he felt Mickey’s mouth swallowing his dick and all his cautious thoughts disappeared from his brain. The one in his head, at least.

While Mickey hummed appreciatively around his cock, Ian fumbled at the condom, tearing the golden wrapper open. He noticed then that Mickey was already preparing himself while sucking him off. That got Ian even more turned on, and he pushed Mickey away to roll the condom over his dick. Mickey whined a little when Ian’s dick left his mouth, but grinned once it was covered with latex.

Mickey rolled over, positioning himself on all fours. He looked at Ian expectantly  over his shoulder with an arched eyebrow.

Ian thought he’d never seen anything more arousing in his life.

Not long after that, they were going hot and heavy on the bed. Mickey, who hadn’t said a word while attacking Ian, turned out to be quite chatty during sex. He growled instructions at Ian through gritted teeth.

“Harder!  _ Yes _ _!_ ”

“Right there! Again!”

“ _ Oh God _ !”

A constant barrage of “FUCK!”’s littered the remaining silence.

They soon felt on the brink of coming. Mickey was the first to let go, coming hard on the sheets with a loud moan. Feeling Mickey clenching around his cock, Ian didn’t last much longer, slamming his hips one more time against Mickey’s ass and releasing himself in the condom.

He pulled out after Mickey started to move, and the both of them fell in a silent impasse.

Awkwardly, Ian pulled the covers up over them, taking his time while trying to find something to say. He hadn’t expected that looking for a flash drive would lead to this awesome fucking sex. Because it had been awesome, no point denying in that.

But with Mickey Milkovich off all people? Ian hadn’t even suspected he was gay, and his gaydar was usually pretty good.

“Umm…” Ian started quietly.

He was interrupted by the door opening and a blond guy making his entrance. His eyes were puffy and he looked hammered. Actually, at closer look, Mickey was no different. His whole body emanated the smell of vodka, but Ian didn’t actually care.

“Mick, got any Advil or some shit? My head feels like it’s gonna explo…” He left his sentence in mid air when he noticed the two bodies under the blanket. He burst into laughter.

“Shit, man! How wasted were you?!” He pinched between his eyebrows in pain before either boy could respond. “Fuck, I feel so bad… Think I’m gonna go back to sleep.”

Blondie yawned and closed the door behind him.

Ian and Mickey stared blankly at the closed door, before Mickey got up and started to dress. Ian did the same in silence. Finally dressed, they stared at each other, not knowing what to say or do.

Without proper thought, Ian decided to do the dumbest move he could ever think of; He leaned in to kiss Mickey. Mickey promptly avoided the trajectory of Ian’s lips by stepping back and turning away from Ian with a growl.

“Kiss me and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

Ian took the incredibly subtle hint and turned to leave.

He was heading out the door when something small hit the back of his head. Looking down at the floor he reached to grab the offending object; the flash drive.

Ian looked up to meet the other boy’s eyes, but Mickey didn’t say anything more. Just waved for Ian to get the fuck out.

 

***

 

Once outside of the smokey, alcoholic stench of the frat house, Ian let his thoughts wander. 

That had been unexpected. And yet amazing.

He hadn’t been feeling good since he started taking his medication, and certainly didn’t remember feeling  _ that _ good since then, maybe even before that. Maybe, possibly, when he had been manic, but this kind of good wasn’t the same as that high, crazy way. It was different. Better.

And Ian wanted to feel it again.

…

What the fuck?! 

 

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got any questions? my tumblr [JAinsel & the Ships](https://jainsel-and-the-ships.tumblr.com)


	2. B.M. & A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do not think about Mickey's ass in public

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much [Soph](http://mapswindsor.tumblr.com) for being my beta <3

How could he have never noticed how hot Mickey Milkovich was?

He was not the typical beauty, but really, Ian wondered how the hell it had never crossed his mind to pin the guy down and have a go at him before.

On second thoughts, maybe it was because he looked like an homophobic bully and acted like a prick. And yet... those eyes. So blue, and filled with lusty thoughts.

Now that Ian knew that Mickey was gay (or bi, or pan or whatever), he could let his mind wander to appreciate Mickey’s body. He was short. Ian had never cared about height: if the guy was willing to bend over for him, Ian had nothing to be picky about. In fact, Mickey being shorter meant it was easier for Ian to move him around to suit his needs; even if he was still not that sure Mickey would be up for letting Ian take control, it looked like the older guy liked a strong grip on his hips and the loud moans he emitted when Ian grabbed him there were kind of a clue. 

Mickey was well built; his muscles were not defined as Ian’s, but when touching his body, Ian had felt the hardness beneath the soft, pale skin. Ian had already decided that Mickey’s thighs were his favorite part, they were so damn thick. No, wait. Scratch that. Mickey’s ass was his best feature. It was perfect. Round, solid, a grade A ass. If Ian was any good with poetry he would write an ode to that ass. But Ian was no poet. The ways he could appreciate that firm butt with his hands, though…

He wanted to touch it again. Squeeze it with his hands. Bite it with his bared teeth. Lick the marks to soothe the pain.

He could feel himself stiffen in his pants just thinking about it.

_ Want to get inside Mickey again… _

“Hey turn the lights on!” somebody shouted.

Suddenly the room was again visible to Ian’s eyes.

_ Oh _ .

_ Reminder to self _ , he thought as his cheeks flush:  it doesn’t matter if the lights are off . Letting his horny brain go wild during study group (they were watching some documentary about something related to some journalist or whatever; that was how much he paid attention to the screen) was not a smart move.

Feeling eyes boring holes into his sides, Ian turned to his left to take notice of Sam staring straight at his crotch, loudly sucking at his pen. Ian looked down.

“Fuck!”

He hastily dropped his coat on his lap.

Ian heard a disappointed sigh coming from Sam.

“The fuck, Sam?” the redhead asked in disbelief.

“God Ian, you’re such a party pooper.” Sam just replied with a shrug.

Yeah, it was mandatory not to think about Mickey’s ass in public.

 

***

 

Apparently, it was best not to think about Mickey’s amazing ass even in a private moment.

Like when he was balls deep in Kash’s. 

_ What the hell _ _?_ It used to be good, fucking his professor. But after driving a Lamborghini, being in a Prius kinda loses its appeal and good for the environment be damned.

Paradoxically, Kash was enjoying the sex even more than usual. Ian was not surprised. Imagining someone else, someone with dark, unruly hair and pale skin, did get him going as it never happened before with Kash. Ian knew he should have felt guilty, but he just couldn’t. That was actually what worried him the most; the fact that he didn’t give a flying fuck about Kash’s feelings. Ian just prayed that it was because he never really liked the man, that in the end they had only used each other to get off. Not because he was feeling manic, and the fact that he wanted to have Mickey again was just the result of one of his bad, illogical decisions.

Well, bipolar or not, wanting to have sex with Mickey again was probably a bad idea anyway.

The afternoon after they had fucked, Ian had gone to Mandy under the guise of “the best friend who doesn’t have to have a reason to hang around”, and started to ask her a bunch of questions, all of them Mickey-related. All inquired with the fine art of subtlety. Pity that Ian couldn’t play cool if his life depended on it. Mandy caught on, but she deduced was that Ian was still scared of her brother. She just laughed, shoving at his shoulder and assuring him that now that he was her alleged boyfriend he didn’t have anything to fear about from Mickey. As long as Mickey didn’t discover that Ian was gay it would be fine, she said, since Mickey was a violent homophobe who didn’t think twice before plummeting punches in some kid’s face because he thought was hitting on him. Ian had to suppress any remarks that piece of information inspired by biting his bottom lip.

Ian had lived in Southside Chicago until he was fourteen, so he had known his fair share of bullies and thugs. That’s why, even if Mickey behaved like them, Ian was not put out too much by it. Probably the fact that Mickey was damn hot helped with that.

_ So hot… _

“Yes, Ian!” someone shouted beneath him.

Kash.

_ Not Mickey. _

Fuck, Ian just came thinking about the wrong guy. But Kash had come too, so it was  _ not a big a deal _ _,_ he told himself.

Ian pulled out, removed the condom and tossed it in the garbage bin on auto-pilot.

Kash was still panting hard. Regaining his breath, he started to zip up his former well-ironed pants.

“That was… I mean I just sucked you off two days ago. How come you were so pent up?”

In any other moment – well, any other moment Before Mickey- he would’ve had told Kash something along the line of “I missed you,” or some shit that Ian knew his… what? Lover? Fuck-buddy? liked to hear. But right now he decided to grunt

“Maybe a two-day period without fucking is too long for me and you’re just too old to understand that.”

Apparently, what he had said was not considered rude in Kash’s etiquette, because the professor just smiled at him.

“Oh, c’mon like you don’t like them older!” Kash laughed softly.

Ian winced at the remark because it wasn’t that far from the truth. Yet somehow he wished Kash would just keep his fucking married mouth shut.

And that smile…

A wuss smile. That what it was. 

_ Wuss wuss wuss. _

Ever since Mickey had barged into the office to scare Kash off and then had scored the flash drive without so much of any physical resistance from the professor, Ian’s thoughts about Kash had completely changed.

Kash was not sweet, he was a pussy. He wasn’t  gentle, he was  a tool. What Ian was getting from Kash was not a sense of stability anymore. It felt like Kash was his ball and chain, a noose around his neck.

“Fuck, Kash, you’re suffocating me!” yelled Ian suddenly into the silence. Kash was rubbing Ian’s shoulders and it felt like a restrictive grip.

He shoved Kash away and stalked out of the office.

 

***

 

Ian did the only thing that could take the edge off his tumbling thoughts: he called home.

He was slumped against a wall in an isolated hallway, trying to decide if it was wise to light up a cigarette. He put the pack of smokes  back in the bag and decided to grab his phone instead.

It wasn’t long before a warm, familiar voice answered on the other side.

“Hey stranger!” greeted his older sister Fiona.

Ian chuckled. “Oh, c’mon Fi. It’s only been a week! I remember Lip making us wait a month or more before he deemed us worthy of a call.”

“Yeah but it’s already established that Lip is the family’s certified asshole. You, on the other hand, are my lovely baby brother.”

“Ew Fi, lovely?” he smirked. “And I thought Carl and Liam were the baby brothers.”

“Yeah, well. You’re younger than I am, so I’m right.”

“As always!” Then he added tenderly; “Sorry I took a week.”

“You’d better be. You didn’t even come home for Thanksgiving!”

The joy Ian was feeling from talking to Fiona disappeared at the mention of the holiday.

“Oh shit!” Fiona exclaimed “Sorry Ian, I… I didn’t think.”

Ian sighed. It had been four years since it happened, but the memory still lingered.

“Ian… you know that you’re not like her, right?” Fiona continued in a soft, soothing voice. “You’re better. She was… She couldn’t take it. But you can. You know that, right?”

Ian nodded, quickly remembering that Fiona couldn’t see him. “Yeah. I know. It’s just… I’ll get past it, ok?”

“I know you will.” And there was a certainty in her tone that made Ian feel strong.

Their mum, Monica, had killed herself on Thanksgiving. They were just getting acquainted with their new house in Northern Chicago, wanting to celebrate a holiday when they really had something to be grateful for. Monica had come to see them a few days prior, assuring them that she was finally willing to take her meds. 

Instead, during the festivity, when her family was in the vast lunchroom having fun and eating a big fat turkey, she vertically sliced her wrists and slowly died without her family suspecting anything was amiss. They all had thought that she was sleeping in the guest room, feeling woozy after she had taken her medication. When they found her in a pool of blood, they immediately called 911, but it was too late. The sight of that particular space in the kitchen was too much to bear and was one of the reasons why Fiona decided to move again. 

Ian had thought he could be the rock of his family. He was the one who got his younger siblings out of the kitchen, who hopped on the ambulance without second thoughts, and then helped Fiona to clean the mess. The year after, Ian was the one who insisted that they should try to have a happy Thanksgiving. Two years after, Ian was AWOL in New York. Three years later, Ian had started being treated for Bipolar Disorder, the same shit that his mother had, and he couldn’t think about damn Thanksgiving without being reminded of his situation. This year, Ian had stayed at university got wasted with Mandy.

Ian shook his head. Fiona was right. Maybe by next year he would be able to have a nice Thanksgiving with his family. Or so he hoped.

“So… How’s Billy?” he changed the topic as quickly as he could.

“Billy?! Are you for real?” Thankfully Fiona decided to go with the flow straight away. “Here I was all giddy and happy that you bothered to call and you ask about a fucking pony?!”

Ian laughed softly. “Yeah well, sorry for giving a damn about him.”

“Oh shut up. He already gets all the damn in the world.”

“I bet. He’s too fucking cute!” Ian smiled. “The horses here are not as pretty as Billy.”

“They  are pretty! You should see ‘em when they run, beautiful!”

“Listen to you, Fi! Having a cowboy for a boyfriend really gets you excited about the equine world!” he teased his older sister.

“Hey I’ve always loved these animals. The Ray-factor has nothing to do with it!” Fiona replied defensively.

“Sure Fiona, sure…”

“Aren’t you gonna ask about the rest of the family?” This time it was Fiona’s turn to change the topic.

“Debs sends me a picture of Emily like every other day. How many dresses does that kid have? Jesus, can you please tell her that her daughter is not a friggin doll?”

“Like you never bought her a bunch of stuff too.”

“Yeah well. The dresses I bought are cool.” Ian had to make it clear. No frou-frou for his niece. “Oh and Carl told me that he got held by the police? Again?”

“That kid…” Fiona huffed. “Nothing serious. They caught him high as a kite with a couple of friends while they were driving a stolen tractor. They crashed a neighbor’s barn. We had to pay for the damage and they let him go.”

Ian chuckled. “At least Liam is still perfect.”

“Never seen a six year old so calm and well behaved. His teachers are all compliments and shit,” he could hear the pride in Fiona’s voice. Liam was the only brother she had raised by herself from the beginning.

“Thank God for Liam Gallagher, then.”

“No God.  _ Fiona _ .” His sister replied firmly. Then added. “So…”

Ian braced himself. He suspected where the “So” with those three dots was going.

“Got a boyfriend, yet?”

He knew it. Ian had never mentioned Kash to Fiona. She would had disapproved. Married, older men were a big no-no. But Mickey… Mickey was something else, wasn’t he?

“Well…” Ian began.

“Oh my god, Ian. Really?! I’m so happy for you!” Her scream of delight down the line was almost deafening. “Tell me! Who is he? How did you two meet?”

“Wow, hey, hold your horses!” He heard a whinny in the background. “Literally. Are you on a fucking horse right now?”

“Yeah. So? Tell your big sis!”

“Uh… It’s still early days, I don’t know…”

“The early days are the best! Enjoy yourself.”

“Yeah sure…” Only problem was, Ian didn’t know if early days were all he was going to get with Mickey. There might not be a repeat...and the prospect was not a happy one.

Then his eyes widened as he noticed a figure swaggering towards him.

Like he’d been summoned, Mickey Milkovich appeared. And he was looking straight at Ian.

“Uh, Fi. I need to go now.”

“Oh. Ok. Lov-“ Ian abruptly ended the phone call.

Mickey was face-to-face with him now. He was touching the corner of his mouth with his tongue, looking Ian up and down. There was a brief pause in his stride, then he resumed his walk past Ian, leaving a bewildered redhead behind.

“Comin’ or what, Firecrotch?” Ian heard Mickey ask lowly.

Ian twisted on his feet in a second, looking at the older guy. Mickey was working his bottom lip with his thumb, now. If Ian didn’t know any better it would almost seem like Mickey was nervous.

“Uh…” Ian started, just in case he missed something, trailing behind him down the hallway.

Mickey didn’t say anything. With those eyebrows arched in Ian’s direction he didn’t need to. Mickey fumbled in his pocket for a key at a small doorway, and pushed open the door.  Ian decided to follow him.

The small room was undoubtedly a janitor’s closet. How the hell did Mickey have the key to it? To alleviate the tense silence between the two of them, Ian decided to ask.

“So, mh, the key-“

“You wanna ask questions or you wanna get on me?” Mickey interrupted bluntly.

Ian couldn’t say he really minded.

 

***

 

Ian was still zipping up his pants when Mickey began walking towards the door. How the fuck was he able to dress so fast?

“So…I guess that was like a booty call, uh?” Ian asked, to try and stall Mickey for second. He hadn’t even steadied his breath yet and Mickey was certainly not giving him time to enjoy the fucking afterglow. Besides, he didn’t want the other guy to leave so soon.

“Whatever. See ya.” Mickey didn’t even glance back as he said it. He opened the door and left.

Ian remained in the closet, belt still unbuckled. He rubbed a hand over his face with a loud sigh.

Well, he fucked Mickey again. He should be satisfied.

So why wasn’t he?

It wasn’t the sex. That had been pretty satisfying. Incredibly satisfying.

It was Mickey. Ian wanted him again. Not only for a quick fuck. And that worried him shitless. Mickey was trouble and Ian didn’t want to seek trouble. It could have devastating consequences for him. Yet, at the same time, it excited the hell out of him.  He was all warm and fuzzy inside... why should he deny himself that feeling?

It was in that moment of resolution, that Ian noticed a key  –the key- laying on the floor.

Had Mickey forgotten it? Or had he left it for Ian?

Ian didn’t care. Either way, it was the perfect excuse to see Mickey again.

  
  
  
  
  



	3. We need to talk about Mickey Milkovich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it worth to pursue that closeted fucker?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks [Soph](http://mapswindsor.tumblr.com) for being my beta <3

 

Ian decided that before making any move on Mickey, he should test the waters first.

Should he leave Kash? Perhaps at the moment Ian was finding him insufferable, but he was always a safe option, right? Even if Ian got to fuck Mickey again, he had no guarantees  that the other guy wouldn’t simply use Ian as a nice diversion, before going back to girls or fucking with a new guy. It was also possible that Ian was not the only one Mickey was banging. The slight pangs of jealousy unsettled Ian: he was certainly not supposed to feel that way, since he was still giving it to Kash (even if using him as a proxy for Mickey, but these were minor details).

So, the million dollar question was; was it really worth his time to pursue Mickey Milkovich?

He should open an inquiry on the guy in question.

Ian decided to start with his dorm roommate Alan. The two of them had scored quite a nice apartment; a two-bedroom, one bathroom and tiny living room on the second floor of the red brick building called Hopkins Hall.

At first, Ian had been fine with the idea of sharing a single room apartment with someone else, like he had in West Point. That was until Fiona reminded him he may not want someone so close to his bed in case he incurred some problems with his cocktails of meds and couldn’t get out of it; or even if he wanted an unknown person watching him taking his morning and evening pills. Ian decided to follow Fiona’s advice and to look for a larger apartment with more separation. That way he would have the privacy of his own room, but in case of emergencies or even just loneliness, there was going to  be somebody there with him.

Thing is, when Ian first met Alan Hyun, all his hopes of making a great friendship that could last more than four years were shattered in a matter of a few days.

This is what Ian quickly gathered about his roomie.

Alan did not like:

  * The smell of Ian’s cigarettes. And no, not the smell of cigarettes in general. Specifically Ian’s.
  * Ian’s music. He forced Ian to tone it down to a minimum by banging at the wall dividing their bedrooms several times.
  * The fact that Ian stayed more in their living room than his own bedroom, causing them to meet more often than absolutely necessary.
  * Ian’s mess around the apartment, like empty bags of chips or crunched bottles of water.
  * Ian. Probably.



Ian was almost resigned to living with an Ian-hater for the whole college period, but things eventually improved.

It took 2 months, 20 extra large pizzas, 37 beers, and Ian feigning interest in whatever Alan was studying, his tastes in music, movies and literature, to get Alan to finally open up to him.

Ian thanked his chameleon-like nature, irresistible charm and unrelenting perseverance, for the breakthrough

Once he did, he discovered was that Alan was not a cold asshole as he initially thought, but just socially impaired. Alan had pegged Ian for an easy going, too chatty, superficial guy, who loved to go to clubs and have fun with whoever, whenever, wherever. Which was actually accurate... except the superficial part.

Ian made it his mission to prove to Alan that yeah, maybe he was easy going, he didn’t find it difficult to talk to other people no matter the topic, and dancing in clubs was still something that he liked to do, from time to time. But he was _more_ than a party guy, and he loved to chill out at home as well, beer in hand watching television. True, he preferred magazines and online newspapers to Alan’s fantasy books, and their taste in music were different,, but to their surprise they discovered that they had some indie bands in common.

After a while, and Ian’s agreement to watch a Lord of the Rings marathon (never again), he got Alan to confess why he hated the smell of Ian’s cigarettes; apparently his ex-girlfriend used to smoke the same brand. Krysta had been Alan’s only girlfriend, and they’d been together for more than two years. She had broken up with him when they both were accepted into their colleges of choice. Instead of saying she couldn’t bear the thought of a long-distance relationship, she had spat out a diatribe of hatred towards Alan, basically saying now she was on her way to bigger and better things, and didn’t need him or his money in the end.

The breakup nearly destroyed Alan. He spent the whole summer in his room playing World of Warcraft and venting on various internet forums and online chat rooms.

It was a few days after Alan’s revelation that Ian decided to tell him about his disorder. Partially it was to deepen their new friendship, and partly it was to have someone he could count on if his brain rejected the meds and Ian had breakdown or manic episode. Ian apologized upfront for any future inconveniences, assuring Alan that he just needed to call his doctor if he noticed that something big had changed.

Alan had shrugged, telling Ian it was no big deal, that friends were supposed to help each other. That sealed it for Ian. He had to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from crying, and he hugged Alan awkwardly, who was so not used to such physical displays of affection. Alan stayed completely still for the duration of the torture, but Ian could see a little smile on his face.

After that, Ian telling Alan that he was gay was not a deal breaker. Alan just took another bite of pizza before asking which position Ian took during sex. Ian was not surprised. He had discovered how curious Alan was about everything.

Alan asked Ian many questions about his bipolar disorder, but always accepted Ian’s wishes to not talk about certain things he wasn’t comfortable discussing. It was strange, but even though Alan refused to meet any of Ian’s other friends, and never hung around Ian outside of their apartment, Ian found it comforting to come back home to someone who he thought of as a brother.

And that was why Ian decided to talk to him about Mickey.

They were both lounging on the sofa, their usual meeting spot. They had ordered Thai and Ian was digging into his pad thai when he blurted out

“Al, do you know Mickey Milkovich?”

Alan looked at him with raised eyebrows. It wasn’t expressive as Mickey’s, but still managed to convey the message: _Do I look like someone who knows people?_

“Nevermind…” Ian bit his lip and decided to shut up.

For like a minute or two.

“You know. I met this guy…” he began again, trying to sound as more casual as possible.

“Who? This Mickey?” Alan caught on, munching his food.

“What? No!” Ian almost choked on his noodles. “Just a guy. A random, nameless guy.” He forced a  shrug, trying to play it cool. As usual he didn’t succeed.

“Mh. Ok. A random, nameless guy then.” Alan nodded slowly, looking at Ian like he was full of bullshit.

“Yeah, so, hum. You know I’m seeing this other guy…”

“Your Arabic Culture professor, Kar something.”

“What the fuck Al?! How did you know that!” Ian looked at Alan like he was some sort of mind-reading monster.

“You talk too much and you are incapable of being subtle. Not that difficult.” Alan shrugged. “Please do continue.”

“So, well, things with Kash are becoming a little… stale? I mean he’s a good guy I guess. But he’s just so…”

“Boring.” Alan volunteered.

“No!” Ian’s first instinct was to deny. “I mean… yeah. Boring.” He  admit it to Alan.

“I thought that boring was what you wanted.”

Ian wanted to say that he liked Kash for other reasons, like that he was a good, quiet guy. But he realized that it was another huge pile of shit. He _had_ gone for Kash because he was boring.

“I guess…” Ian admitted. “But he’s stable. It’s good for me, right? And the other guy…”

“Mickey.”

_Fuck you, Alan. Seriously, fuck you._

“This other guy... he’s like the opposite. He’s rough, violent and is deeply, like very deeply, closeted. I mean even Kash is, but at least with him I can tell that he likes me. I think Mi… the other guy, just looks at me like a fuck-buddy. And I don’t want that. It’s…”

“Not stable.” Alan cut him off again. But as usual was right to the point.

“Yeah. I kind of like the guy. But he doesn’t sound like a good deal for me.”

“And you want me to tell you if you should chase after him or back off.”

“Basically, yes.”

Alan took a moment to think about the situation.

“Ok. I’m no expert in relationships, but I can see that you should stop seeing this Kash. You’re using him for stability and he’s using you because you’re young and pretty. And he’s married. I know you’re afraid you’ll go manic if you explore outside of your routine, and I’m not saying you should be reckless. I’m not inside your head to try to play doctor. It’s just that… I can see you’re unhappy with Kash. You fuck –a barely decent fuck from what you told me- then what? He kisses you goodbye and then goes home to kiss his wife hello? If you think that your life has to be sad and empty of feelings in order to be safe and sound, you’re wrong. Stay like this and you’re going to become a lonely old man, regretting not having taken your chance at happiness.”

Alan looked at Ian and he almost felt bad for having said such harsh words. But Alan was harsh. He went straight to the point with no hypocrisy and people’s precious feelings be damned. This characteristic had never helped him making and keeping friends, who couldn’t understand that behind his blunt opinions there was deep concern and desire to help.

Ian stayed silent, and Alan was afraid he was going to lose the only true friend he had in college. Then Ian surprised him.

“I guess that’s kinda true. What about the other guy, though?”

Alan sighed with relief.

“I don’t know about Mickey. He doesn’t seem like a real catch, but I suppose it’s the bad boy charm that appeals to you. Really, what is it with bad boys that attract everybody?” Alan shook his head. “I think it’s up to you. Just try to decide if not going for him is gonna be something you regret in the future.”

Ian nodded. Then he turned the tv up, shutting the conversation down.

 

***

 

“Hey, do you know this dude, Mickey Milkovich?” Ian asked trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

The look of terror in Sam’s eyes and of anger in Ryan’s suggested that yes, they fucking knew him.

“Don’t even mention his name!” Sam cried out in a high pitched voice.

They were in the middle of the dining hall and a few heads turned to look at the blonde. Sam was embarrassed for a second, but then shrugged and resumed the conversation.

“Yeah we fucking know him. My face fucking knows him,” Sam replied, almost shivering.

“Did he beat you up?” Ian asked, confused.

“What do you think? Yes, he beat me up. Ryan too.” He closed his eyes trying to muster the courage to speak. Really, it’s never nice to talk about getting punched, but Sam was drawing it out, taking his damn time.

“While we’re young, Sam.” Ian urged.

Sam huffed and pouted. “Ok, ok. So. It happened in September, we still hadn’t met. You-know-who decided I was checking him out and that it was a good idea to come closer, asking me if I was a ‘fucking faggot’. I couldn’t even try to deny it before he headbutted me –straight on my beautiful face!- and then punched me here.” He indicated his belly.  “And he even threw a couple of kicks at me after I collapsed on the grass.”

Then he nodded towards Ryan with a small smile. “Lucky for me a Good Samaritan came to my rescue.” He huffed “Pity that he got the shit beaten out of him as well.”

The pride that had glowed on Ryan’s face faded quickly to be replaced by shame.

Ian, who had listened to the tale with full attention, decided to inquire further into his friend’s trauma.

“And were you? Checking him out?”

“Whaaat? That’s what you’re asking? If I was...” Sam looked offended and quite shocked but then he deflated and admitted, “Yeah, I guess… I mean he’s kinda cool, right? With that whole bad to the bone package. And I don’t know, I thought I felt a gay vibe from him. Boy was I wrong.”

Ian couldn’t help but think that Sam was kind of stupid when it came to understanding other people’s attraction towards him. Like Ryan, who was so blatantly taken by him and Sam was completely fucking oblivious.

Still, Sam had probably a gaydar better functioning than Ian’s.

“So you don’t know anything else about him?” Ian asked after a minute.

“Why are you so interested?” Sam looked at him suspiciously. “Don’t tell me that you got on his wrong side. You throw your coffee at him? OMG don’t tell me it’s money-related! Did you lose at poker with him?”

There was deep concern in Sam’s tone, making it  impossible for Ian to laugh at his suggestions.

“No. He’s just Mandy’s brother.”

“Oh, Mandy. I still don’t get why you involved yourself with her. You don’t need a beard.”

“Maybe not, but she’s my friend.” Ian said defensively. He didn’t like people talking badly about Mandy.

“Whatever, Ian. We’re just worried about you. That Milkovich family… they’re not good people.”

Ian didn’t even need to ask how Sam knew. He was kind of the Gossip Girl of that university.

“I heard that they’re rich. But their money is bloody. You get what I mean? They have all sorts of underworld trafficking going on. They have connections like everywhere, especially in… Where was it? Chicago, yeah.”

Mandy had already told him where she was from, but for the life of him he had never heard about her family before. He guessed that probably they didn’t have any interests in the South Side.

“Oh and they have this façade of owning something in transportation, I think? And I heard the father is a fucking nazi. His whole family is. I bet you-know-who has like fifty nazi tattoos on him.”

Truth was, Ian hadn’t noticed any tattoos on Mickey’s body. But then the first time the windows were shut down, light dim, and the second time they hadn’t even bothered to undress. He  was so engulfed in his dirty thoughts about Mickey’s body that he didn’t notice that Sam had finished talking.

“That doesn’t change that Mandy is a nice girl,” Ian remarked, his voice a little lower than before.

“A nice skank, you mean,” said Sam. After the death glare Ian sent him, he shut up.

 

***

 

Next on his hit list? Mandy.

Ian was meeting her at the library to review for their upcoming English exam, and  Ian decided to prod further into his new Mickey knowledge. He had to be careful around his baby sister, though. The first time Mandy hadn’t understood the meaning behind his questions, but a second time was risky.

After Mandy had explained him how Gatsby was this psycho stalker who gave her the creeps, Ian managed to say, as casually as possible.

“Uh, I saw your brother yesterday.”

“Yeah? Did he bother you or something?” Mandy asked immediately, eyebrows raised.

“No.”

“Then why you telling me?”

“Uh. No reason.”

_Cool Ian, so cool._

Mandy shrugged and went back to her papers. Ian tried again.

“Is he, like, always so-“

“Stupid?” suggested Mandy.

“I wanted to say violent but yeah, let’s go with that.” Any conversation with  Mandy talking about Mickey was fine with him.

“You know what? I don’t even know if he’s stupid. Sometimes I think he just acts like a stupid monkey. I mean, have you seen his frat bros? They’re like mesmerized by him. What he orders, they do, what he thinks, they think. He has the biggest room and, yeah, Pops is an alumni there as well as our brothers, and we’re rich, so Mickey got in almost instantly, but Mickey didn’t just enter the place, he fucking owns it.”

Ok, why the fuck did Ian feel a sudden wave of pride at Mickey being the douchebag King of Douchebags?

“I guess it’s good for him, since Pops has already set his mind that Mickey has to become the next world leader. Well, if he manages to graduate.” Mandy muses thoughtfully while chewing on her bubble gum.

Ian knew that Mickey was majoring in International Relations, Kash told him after Ian had consigned the flash drive to him. The professor explained that Milkovich had used his courses to get easy credits. Ian wondered how many other professors Mickey had bribed or scared off.

“You know, he even attends his classes. Well, some of them, at least. But nothing in this world can persuade him to study for a fucking exam. But he always manages to pass. He doesn’t even bribe all the professors. Sometimes he gets easy notes from some grade A student, or I don’t know, I guess that he actually pays attention to class, from time to time.”

Ian knew nothing about that, the only time he had ever seen him in a classroom, Mickey had been taking a nap.

That reminded him of the other topic he wanted to ask her about.

“What if I don’t like Kash anymore?”

“I’ve never understood what you saw in him in the  first place,” she replied, deadpan.

Ian didn’t really know how to reply to that. He wasn’t sure himself.

“So… what should I do?”

“You don’t like it, you leave it,” Mandy replied simply, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

And maybe it was.

“Ay wench.”

A voice Ian was getting more than acquainted with, resounded behind him. Ian didn’t dare move.

“Hey Assface,” retorted Mandy, without looking at her brother. Her eyes focused on Ian instead. He looked so fidgety that Mandy came to the obvious conclusion that Ian was still nervous around Mickey. She slapped her hand on top of Ian’s. Like a girlfriend is supposed to do.

Ian looked at her in surprise, but he didn’t shove her hand off.

“Gallagher,” Mickey greeted him with a smirk. “Being lovey dovey with my sister, I see.”

Ian tried and miraculously managed to maintain his nerve.

“Mickey,” he nodded blandly.

Mickey threw a folder bursting with lecture notes at Mandy.

“Look what I got for you. You should kiss my feet, bitch,” Mickey smirked, pleased with  himself.

“Uh? What’s this?” Mandy opened the folder to look at the notes, confused.

Mickey’s eyebrows movements indicated surprise and a slight contempt towards his sister.

And yes. Ian was looking straight at his face, exploiting the fact that Mickey’s attention was on Mandy. Ian was starting to think that Mickey didn’t really need words to communicate. Maybe the next President of the United States was going to make speeches only wiggling his eyebrows.

“Bitch, you asked for this! Remember? Use that stupid fucking head of yours. Didn’t you say you wanted the notes for Psychology 101? Well, here are the fucking notes. You’re welcome!”

Her eyes lit up with understanding. “What? I just mentioned that I wanted the notes, not that you needed to go up beat some kid to get them!”

“I didn’t fucking need to beat that geek, I just asked him nicely and he dropped immediately. I guess he knows me.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have done it anyway; you’re gonna ruin my reputation,” Mandy muttered.

“Like it’s not already ruined by association. Anyway, since you don’t want them, I’m gonna trash this somewhere…”

“NO!” Mandy clutched the papers to her chest.

Mickey smirked. He knew she was gonna take it.

Ian, who had been listening to their exchange silently, almost jumped out of  his seat when Mickey put a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Treat my sister well, Gallagher. Maybe the skank won’t cheat on you.”

“Oh, shut up!” retorted Mandy resentfully.

But Ian wasn’t paying attention to their bickering anymore. His eyes were fixed on Mickey’s hand on his shoulder, staring at something on Mickey’s knuckles. Now that they were so close and under the bright lights of the library, Ian could discern something like a stain on each of them. It wasn’t dirt, though… maybe letters? But they were so faded that Ian couldn’t distinguish them exactly. Then, Mickey’s pinkie started to caress ever so slightly the nape of his neck, and Ian lost focus completely. He couldn’t begin to understand how Mandy didn’t notice his flushed face.

Ian was lost so deeply in his own world that he emerged from it only after Mickey bid them goodbye, with a rough “douchebags”.

Without thinking about it, Ian got up, telling Mandy he needed to go to the bathroom. His intentions were far from pissing though. After that caress, Ian was sure Mickey was in serious need of the key and Ian was very eager to give it to him.

Ian had almost reached the older guy when Mickey was greeted by three guys. Maybe they were friends, maybe they were part of his fraternity either way,  they were looking at him like the sun shined from his ass.

Ian was determined to reach Mickey in spite of their arrival, but one glare from Mickey suggested that it was better for him to fuck off.

He went back to Mandy, plopping on the chair with a dejected sigh.

“That was fast,” observed Mandy.

“Yeah, the bathroom is getting cleaned. Couldn’t get in.”

Mandy nodded, absentmindedly. “Think you can hold it for another hour? You need to tell me everything you know about fucking Hemingway. He is too boring for my delicate taste.”

 

***

 

The hour passed, with Ian talking about Hemingway... while thinking about Mickey and Kash.

Ok, Ian acknowledged, maybe Mickey was not a great choice to pursue. His family was shit (except Mandy, of course), he was closeted, violent and it didn’t look like Mickey wanted anything more from him than a good fuck.

But... Mickey was also sexy, smart, and the first guy in a long time who had made Ian _feel_ something.

Ian decided that he didn’t want to lose that, just  because he was scared he would lose his safe routine. Even if that someone was trouble and probably was not even interested in him. He wanted to chase that feeling because it felt nice to be alive.

Ian decided in that moment that he was going to do it, he was going to pursue Mickey.

And to do that, he needed to break-up with Kash.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for any questions my tumblr [jainsel-rumblefish](http://jainsel-rumblefish.tumblr.com) <3


	4. Give it to me (the fucking key)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!!
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely [Mapswindsor](http://mapswindsor.tumblr.com)

Ian didn’t want to be that kind of guy anymore. 

The kind who cheats and doesn’t care who he hurts in the process. He had been like that even before his bipolar disorder had kicked in, probably due to being a South Side gay kid with crazed hormones and solid stamina. He had fucked his way through all the gay soldiers in the ROTC, instructors included.

Now he was more careful. At twenty he was capable of not screwing around, and  since taking the meds he had only been with Kash. Ian didn’t regret making the change, and doing it with Kash. it made Ian discover that sex didn’t have to be the dangerous weapon he had previously thought.

But now? Since Mickey? Now he wanted something more. And to have that, he needed to let Kash go.

Ian decided to go for it after his Arabic Culture exam. During the whole two hours he sat curled over his paper, Ian could feel Kash’s stare on him. Kash was probably wondering why Ian hadn’t come to see him after their last encounter had ended so abruptly. Looking up, Ian saw the professor glancing at him with sad, puppy eyes. Ian smothered a laugh. Kash looked ridiculous. Not everyone could pull that move and still looking endearing. Puppy eyes were definitely Ian’s forte.

Still, Ian needed to put the puppy out of his misery. So as the rest of the class filed out at the close of the exam, he stayed in his seat.

Happy students, sad students, confused students and I-don’t-fucking-care-how-it-went students left the room, leaving Ian and Kash alone.

“Can we go to your office?” asked Ian, reaching for  his bag.

“Sure.” Kash’s face brightened with expectation. His office? Kash knew what that meant. They only ever met at his office for sex.

He strolled contently down the hallway with Ian nine feet behind him.

The door swung shut behind them, and Kash was already loosening his tie when Ian stopped him.

“Wait.”

“Huh? Why?” Kash looked surprised. Then smiled. Maybe Ian just wanted to apologize for the last time before getting right into it.

Ian was about to begin reciting the pre-rehearsed break up lines he had run through his head on his way over, when he noticed a pile of papers on Kash’s desk with Mickey’s name on the first one. He nodded towards it.

“Is that Mickey’s exam?”

“What?” Kash replied distractedly, then looked in the direction Ian was pointing. “Oh, yeah. Did it this morning. I had to correct it straight away to see if he could pass. I guess that bastard managed to see the content of the flash drive anyway. He did pretty well,” Kash added scornfully.

“Sorry,” Ian muttered, even though he wasn’t. Well, at least not about Mickey passing the exam.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault that you couldn’t get the drive sooner,” Kash replied with a wave of his hand.

Ian blinked at his words. Was Kash fucking kidding?

“Excuse me?” Ian spat in response. “What the fuck does that mean? It was you who let Mickey take the fucking drive!”

Kash was taken aback. “What was I supposed to do? Milkovich is violent. I’m a smart man in a stupid world. I had to do what I did!”

“You didn’t do anything, Kash. That’s the problem, You’re not a smart man, you’re a fucking pussy!” Ian couldn’t believe that Kash wasn’t admitting his cowardice, was actually trying to justify his weakness. “ _ I _ was the one who fucking got it for you and now you  _ forgive _ me for not getting it sooner? Fuck you, Kash!”

Kash looked at him in disbelief. “What the hell has crawled up your ass? First you’re so hot for me, then you tell me I’m suffocating you, and now you’re acting like a dick!”

“ _ I’m _ acting like a dick?” Ian shouted, then took a deep breath to calm himself. “You know what? I came here to tell you this nicely but you’re making my decision much, much easier.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m breaking up with you, Kash. Whatever we had going on is finished. It was okay while it lasted, but-”

“What?“

“Shut the fuck up and let me finish. I thought you were right for me, but I needed to open my eyes to see that you’re clearly not. You’re married, you can’t stand up for yourself and you’re boring as shit.”

“Ian!” Kash sounded scandalized.

Ian huffed, his face softening a little. “Look, I don’t think you’re a bad person, but you need to man up a bit.”

Kash murmured something that Ian couldn’t catch. “What?”

“I said OUT! Get OUT!” Kash shouted angrily. That was the first time Ian had seen him angry. But he had seen better, and worse and Ian wasn’t that impressed.

“Yeah, whatever. And you’re the adult here, huh?”

Ian started to move towards the door, but stopped a second before he pushed it open.

“Don’t even try to flunk my exam. I know I did it pretty well, so I’m expecting a decent grade.  Don’t surprise me, okay? Or maybe I’ll surprise your wife with  _ your _ little secret.” 

Kash’s face turned white. “You… you wouldn’t…”

“I won’t if you won’t.” 

With that, Ian clicked the door shut behind him.

 

***

 

When friends ask you to keep an eye on their bags while they go to the bathroom, you’re just supposed to keep a fucking eye on them. Nothing more.

What Ian did was slightly different. After their study session at the library, Mandy and Ian had gone to grab something to eat at the nearby coffee shop. Mandy headed to the bathroom and asked Ian to watch her Gucci bag while she was gone.

Ian eyed the bag carefully. He wasn’t worried about someone taking it, not when it was perched next to him on the bench. He was staring at it, wondering just how wrong it was to peek inside and grab her cell phone.

_ Oh what the hell… _

Ian reached in and fished out Mandy’s cellphone from the disorganized mess his best-friend called “a few necessary things” and opened it. He felt so guilty to actually know the security code. He clicked on ‘contacts’, and scrolled down the list until he found the M’s.

_ Wait, where’s Mickey? _

He looked through all her contacts, feeling stalkerish as fuck and fearing Mandy’s return any second. 

Ian thought hard. Mandy  _ had _ to have her brother stored in her address book somewhere.  _ Hmmm _ . Mandy had kind of a creative mind for her contact names. Ian was just ‘Ian BF’, but others were stuff like ‘skankpsy101’ or “losernbr2”. Then he noticed under B:

-BroAssface <3

-BroAsstwat

-BroFuckhead

-BroFucktard

-BroJerkoff

Mandy had five brothers, so Mickey was probably among them. Supposedly, Mickey was her favorite brother therefore the <3, but if he was not?

He glanced at the bathroom and braced himself to do something even worse: check her texts. Lucky for him and his guilty conscience, he found ‘BroAssface <3’ texts first on the list:

 

** [4:57 PM] BroAssface <3: bitch where the fuck r u? **

** [5:01 PM]: with my fucking bf, library. Y? **

 

There was no reply, of course. That was when Mickey had turned up with the lecture notes. Ok, it was definitely Mickey. He was almost tempted to see if Mickey had ever asked anything about him but he wisely decided otherwise and just scribbled the number down on his napkin instead. Wisely, because as soon as Ian had dropped the cellphone into the bag, Mandy showed up.

Ian almost had a heart attack.

“Fuck! Why girls take so long to pee? There was a long ass line!” she cried in annoyance, plopping down next to him. She didn’t even noticed Ian’s visibly guilty face as she called for the waiter.

 

***

 

And that’s how, two days later, Ian was fidgeting over texting Mickey.

He was sitting on a bench in the park, breathing in the glacial air that he’d stupidly thought might calm him down. Instead, he was just gritting his teeth while his feet bounced up and down so hard he was  probably creating an earthquake somewhere on the other side of the world.

“Come the fuck on…” he told himself angrily, tapping out a short text with his ungloved fingers.

 

** [11:45 AM]: hey it’s Ian. Got ur nbr from Mandy **

** [11:45 AM]: Ian Gallagher. **

 

Instead of waiting outside for a reply, Ian decided to head back inside. He could be waiting minutes but he could be waiting hours, maybe forever, and it really was too fucking cold out there. 

In reality, Ian didn’t even need to wait fifteen minutes before his phone vibrated. He was holding a cup of hot chocolate when he felt the buzzing in his pocket, and he almost dropped the steaming drink in response.

He gingerly opened the phone to read the text.

 

** [11:56 AM] MickeyM: I know who the fuck u are. U fucking asked sis for my nbr??? **

 

_ Oh. Fuck. _

 

** [11:58 AM]: No no! Im not stupid. Looked through her phone **

** [11:59 AM] MickeyM: ur a stalker then? **

** [11:59 AM]: Fuck no! Need to see you. **

** [12:00 AM] MickeyM: Cant keep it in your pants uh? **

 

Before Ian could figure out a response Mickey added.

 

** [12:00 AM] MickeyM: K. meet you in 20. Where last time **

 

Ian trashed the chocolate and hurried to the janitor’s closet, a wide grin on his face.

 

***

 

When he arrived, Mickey was still not there. 

Ian glanced at his watch. It had definitely been twenty minutes by now. Did Mickey already leave? Was he on his way? Was he not coming after all?

The blizzard in Ian’s mind dissipated the second he registered Mickey strutting cockily towards him. He had such a smirk on his face, a “What should I do with ya, can’t get enough of my ass, uh?” smirk. Ian rolled his eyes. While it may be  technically true, it didn’t sit well with Ian to appear so desperate. He had always been the one the other guys begged for a fuck.

“Uh, hi Mickey…” started Ian.

“Yeah, get inside.” He brusquely told Ian.

Ian had already unlocked the door before and just entered, quickly followed by Mickey.

Now, in the dim light of the closet, Mickey looked at him and licked his bottom lip. Ian was instantly turned on

“Let’s get down to business,” said Mickey, already unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants down. Ian was so engrossed watching him that he almost forgot what he wanted to say.

“Why are you still dressed? I’m not gonna dry hump ya.”

Ian vehemently shook his head.

“I- wait-!” Ian fumbled at his own pant and boxers as he spoke, pushing them down around his ankles. “It’s just, I have something to give you.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly why we’re here, Firecrotch,” answered Mickey, glancing down at the mentioned fire crotch. Ian was already semi-hard just from their exchange.

Still, Ian couldn’t stop himself from babbling on, because he was notoriously bad at understanding when to shut the fuck up. He was about as good at that as playing it cool. 

“I meant the key…” Ian mumbled, fumbling through the jeans he had just discarded on the floor to pull out the key triumphantly. 

Mickey looked at Ian like he was slow. Took the key and dropped it somewhere close to his bag.

“Ok, now that this important task is done, shall we fuck?”

Ian didn’t even have time to reply before Mickey was on him. Not kissing him. After Mickey’s threat the last time they were together, it was clear as day that he was not the kissing type. Ian loved it, but hell, if it meant hooking up with Mickey, he could manage to go without.

Mickey palmed Ian, stroking his cock until it grew to full erection. He looked pleased at Ian’s fast reaction.

“Well I guess the key was not the only thing you wanted to give me…”

Ian couldn’t help but grin, all his insecurities vanishing in the arousal of the moment.

“Nah, that’s too small for you, you need something definitely way bigger than that.”

“Aren’t we confident, Firecrotch,” teased Mickey, continuing to  stroke him with a slow rhythm that was driving Ian mad.

“Shouldn’t I be?” replied Ian, panting a little, voice definitely lower now.

Mickey smirked, sliding his thumb along Ian’s length, covering all its inches, then pressing it against the slit, causing Ian to moan.

“Never said that.”

Ian smiled and shoved Mickey off him, to turn him against the shelves. Mickey didn’t protest. He bent over and eagerly spread his legs.

This was the third time they were fucking, and by now Ian had caught on that Mickey liked to be treated a little rough. Ian still didn’t know his boundaries, but he was looking forward to testing Mickey’s limits more and more with each encounter. He already knew that Mickey liked it hard and fast; that he wanted Ian to press his fingers into his hips enough strongly to leave bruises. And that he seemed to get even more into it when Ian was covering his back with his chest.

Ian edged closer, kneading Mickey’s ass. Perfectly round and pale, just like he remembered…

“So? Get the fuck on me,” urged Mickey, waking Ian up from his thoughts of adoration for the bubble butt in front of him.

Ian leaned to grab the lube and a condom from his bag. He opened the lube, smearing part of it on his right hand. With the other hand he smacked Mickey’s left ass cheek.

“Aren’t you eager,” said Ian, almost expecting a negative reaction to the smacking but receiving none. If any, Mickey bent over a little more.

“Yeah, whatever…” Mickey’s grumblings died on his tongue when Ian’s first finger entered his ass. “Fuck!” that’s what he said instead.

“Yeah, that’s more like it,” acknowledged the redhead, continuing with his preparation. At the third finger, Mickey tried and failed to stifle a moan. After Ian slammed inside him with his first push, Mickey didn’t even try to suppress his grunts. Ian waited only a few moments for Mickey to adjust before starting to thrust with an increasingly fast rhythm.

Ian decided to try investigate Mickey’s preferences further and leaned in, pressing his chest against the shorter guy’s back. Mickey thrust back against him with renovated vigor.  _ Ok, that was definitely one of Mickey’s things. _ Ian still didn’t dare touch anything but Mickey’s cock with his lips, but he could do something else.

“Mh… Mickey. So good…” Ian murmured husky into the other guy’s ear. “So tight…”

“Shut… Shut the fuck up Gallagher, mhn…” Ian could’ve sworn Mickey had to stifle a whimper, if the sensation of his ass clenching harder around him was not proof enough.

Dirty talk could be a new thing? Ian didn’t try to dig any further. Yet.

He pounded hard into Mickey’s ass, reaching around and stroking his cock when he felt Mickey approaching his climax. The guy under him made a choking sound when he came, leaving Ian with a few thrusts before coming himself, quietly.

He pulled out after regaining his breath and removed the condom.

Silently they pulled up their boxers and pants. Mickey had just opened the door when Ian caught his eye. He was smiling a shit-eating grin.

“Let me ask you a question: what’s my name under your contacts? Firecrotch?”

Mickey shook his head, smirking. He shoved Ian out.

“Like hell I’m gonna do that. Ain’t even put a name for you yet,” he replied, showing Ian his phone. Ian’s number was still not added.

“Aw, you need time to choose the right name for me? That’s sweet,” Ian teased him cockily.

“You wish,” Mickey said with a scoff.

Ian laughed rather than admit that yes, he wished that.

 

***

 

Little did they know that someone was watching them laughing and shoving each other.

Kash was passing through in that moment. Last year he had discovered that that hallway was the perfect shortcut to reach his favorite cafeteria from his office in half the time of his usual path. This time he discovered something else entirely.

As soon as he caught a glimpse of Mickey and Ian he hid himself behind the corner, spying on them attentively. They both looked flushed, their necks sweaty and their clothes disheveled. It didn’t take a genius to understand the signs. Kash put two and two together, gritting his teeth as he watched them disappear. Their laughter echoing back down the hallway behind them.

Kash turned back to his office. His lunch could wait. First, he had to do something stupid.


	5. What are you doing for Christmas?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was beta'd by Mapswinsor. Unfortunately she won't be able to edit the chapters anymore, so the next ones will be ubeta'd.  
> If someone here wants to volunteer, at least to check my grammar (sorry, English is not my first language, I could screw up some past tenses along the way!), is welcome! Thanks <3

Today was going to be a good day. Ian decided that before he even opened his eyes.

It didn't matter that he had his last final in three hours and he still had to finish reading a book for it. It was a good day because the past week had been really nice, and tomorrow he was taking a flight to go see his family for the winter break. He felt pretty confident about  exams he had already taken, and he had got laid the last two days in a row. By Mickey, no less. On Wednesday they even had met twice.

He was feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.

Ian got up, stretching a little. He couldn’t go running because it was too cold, and there wasn’t time to go exercise at the rowing club, so he settled for a quick series of pushups and situps on his bedroom floor. He ate a protein bar and took his meds. Then he showered and with a sigh he opened his book. He could hear Alan swearing in the other room, and Ian guessed he was not the only one behind on studying for the finals.

He wanted to ask Alan about his plans for Christmas but it did not seem a very wise idea.

 

***

 

The last exam was trickier than Ian had expected, but he was confident he passed.

“Hey Ian, wait!” Sam cried, running to catch up with Ian, who was already leaving the classroom. It was strange not to see Ryan hovering over the blonde, but they didn’t share that class.

“Oh hey, how did it go?” Ian asked him.

Sam huffed. “Don’t ask. I probably shouldn’t have spent last night watching all those Friends reruns…”

Ian laughed. “Yeah, guess not.”

They walked down the hallway together, Ian listening to Sam talk about his plans for Christmas. His schedule seemed pretty full; except for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, he wasn’t going to stay at home, but always at someone else’s, reconnecting with his friends.

“I’m so gonna get laid!” Sam crowed happily. He had been full of hope when he first arrived in college, but after meeting Ryan, his chance of fucking around randomly had been reduced to non-existent. In Sam’s opinion, Ryan was a cock-block who couldn’t mind his own business, but Ian would see the death glare Ryan aimed at any guy who got too close to Sam, and knew his motivation was slightly different.

“And you? What are you gonna do?” asked Sam curiously.

Ian shrugged. “The usual. Be with my family, maybe see a couple of friends… Mostly I think I’ll just relax, ride a horse, find out if I’m still crap at that.”

“I’m sure you don’t have any problem mounting.” Sam commented with a nasty grin. Ian shoved him carefully. Last time he had used a little more force, and Sam had complained the whole day about his excruciating pain.

“Any plans for New Year’s Eve?”

“I still don’t know,” Ian replied. In his mind, he had pretty much decided what he wanted to do, and with whom. He still needed confirmation on his counterpart, though.

“Are you kidding? New Year’s eve is like the most important holiday ever.” Sam retorted in disbelief. “You need to be fucking at midnight, ‘cause if you fuck on the New Year it means you’ll fuck the whole year to come.”

That was Ian’s plan exactly. “We’ll see,” he replied.

“Well, I’m heading to New York with a bunch of friends. There’s this huge party, and Francine already told me she’ll introduce me to one of her handsome model friends. I’m so excited and…” Sam started rambling about what he was _‘_ _so gonna do at that party’ ,_ and Ian applied the ancient Buddhist technique of not-giving-a-fuck, which consisted of nodding and smiling to Sam while letting his mind wander everywhere but there.

 

***

 

“Ian!” Mandy waved her hand from the table she was sitting at in the crowded bar. They had decided to have a drink together before saying goodbye until January.

Ian settled into the seat across from her, smiling in greeting.

“Can’t believe this nightmare is finally over,” commented Mandy as she glanced over the menu. “I’m not sure how I did, but it can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, me too… And now I’m starving and thirsty.”

The waiter chose that exact moment to take their orders. Lucky fuckers.

Ian let Mandy order because he trusted her taste and she knew he couldn’t drink anything too heavy. What the waiter brought him had a nice, warm color and it tasted sweet and a little sour; she had made a good choice as usual.

“So,” Mandy began, while sucking on her straw. “Excited to see your family?”

Ian smiled a big one. “Yeah. Especially my niece.”

He had fucking sparkles in his eyes when he took out his phone and let Mandy check Emily’s hundreds of photos. “Isn’t she the cutest fucking thing ever?”

Mandy sighed affectionately. Ian was a complete sucker for his niece and she could understand why. That little kid was so cute and plump, with big dark eyes and reddish hair, all curly and soft.

“She got another dress, I see.” Mandy answered indulgently.

Ian rolled his eyes. “Don’t even start. I always tell Debs: she’s not a doll!”

“Well she looks like a doll. I would love to pinch those rosy cheeks.”

“Then why don’t you come over for Christmas?” Ian blurted out. He hadn’t thought about it before, but why not? His family would love to meet his best friend, and Mandy hadn’t seemed very enthusiastic about going back home.

Mandy looked surprised. “What?”

“Why not? We could have fun! I could teach you… well, Ray could teach you to ride a horse.” Ian was already imagining having fun with Mandy, but she seemed to have reservations.

“Look, Ian. I would love to spend Christmas at you house, but I can’t.” She seemed so deeply sorry that Ian didn’t try to insist.

“You have some kind of Christmas tradition at the Milkoviches?”

Mandy’s laugh was bitter. “Not really. The biggest celebration is on Christmas Eve, but it’s not a family thing. It’s this big, luxurious party hosted at the house. Father shows off his wealth, as well as his sons, especially Mickey, since Pops thinks he needs to 'broaden his network of connections'.” She grimaced. “My role is to be the perfect daughter and maybe meet my future fucking husband.”

“Heavy.” Ian didn’t know how to reply.

“Heavy indeed. Especially when father gives you those glacial glares whenever you don’t do it right…” Mandy shivered. “Christmas is no party but neither is a family lunch. It was, when there was mum, but now it’s people bringing Pops gifts, like the fucking Godfather! I’m supposed to be pretty and serious and recieve every gift they give father. I couldn’t do it the last two years, so this time I have to be there.”

“The last two years?” Mandy was Ian’s age, so there was a two-year gap between high-school and college. Ian had never asked what she had done during that time, since she never mentioned it.

“Uhm.” She clearly hadn’t expected that question. “I… was abroad.”

“Oh. Nice,” Ian replied after a pause. It was evident that it was not the truth, or at least not all of the truth, but he decided not to push her any further. If Mandy was not ready to tell him, he had to accept it. He didn’t tell her everything about his manic episodes, his hallucinations, when he tried to kill himself. He told her some things, but never anything with too many details. They had bonded deeply and both of them had told each other intimate stuff, but they had always tried to keep a light tone.

Mandy shrugged. “Yeah…” Her voice trailed off into silence.

“When’s your flight, then?” Ian asked, changing the subject.

“Uh, tomorrow afternoon, don’t remember the time. Mickey booked it.”

“You’re going back together?” Stupid question, yes. He already knew the answer.

“What do you think?” she smiled a little, looking at Ian like he was the biggest idiot alive.

“Yeah sorry.” He munched on a chip. “I have my flight tomorrow afternoon too. Maybe we could share a taxi.”

Mandy’s smile grew wider. “Fuck yes. I’ll have to deal with that fucktard for the entire flight; at least I can speak with you on the taxi ride over to the airport.”

Happiness regained, Mandy decided to celebrate by ordering another round of cocktails.

   

***

 

Ian came back home a little tipsy, but overall he was lucid. He stopped by his room to take his pills, then headed out to knock on Alan’s door.

He heard a muffled sound that could’ve been a “Come in”, and decided to enter.

Alan was lying flat out out on the bed, absolutely shattered. Alan grunted something, somehow managing to sit up.

“What d’you want…?” he asked, rubbing his eyes blearily.

“Uh, nothin’. Just wanted to know when you’re leaving….”

“Mornin’…” He yawned.

“… And what are your plans for Christmas?” Ian felt so stupid asking Alan about Christmas so late in the game. He had thought they would sit on the sofa, watching a tv series and talking about their plans for the break long ago.

“You wake me up for this shit?”

“Uh… Yeah? Sorry. Everything ok, though?”

“Just tired, haven’t slept for two days.” Alan looked like shit, but at least he could still speak without scrambling his words, so he was good. Probably.

“Well, ok then. Sleep, I’ll just watch tv. Very low, don’t worry.”

Ian was almost closing the door when he heard;

“… Videogames.”

“What?”

“My plans.” Alan explained in a mumble, then dozed off almost instantly.

Ian didn’t even respond, closing the door quietly behind him.

Even if he was not ending his evening in the company of friends, Ian was still feeling fuzzy and warm inside.

The thought of what he was going to do the next morning put a little bit of excitement and nervousness in the mix.

 

***

 

Ian waved a catatonic Alan goodbye and Merry Christmas at 8am. It was 11 am when he finished packing his own duffel bag. It was quite light, he didn’t need many things since he was going home.

His flight was at 4 pm and Mandy had texted him that morning that the Milkoviches’ flight was scheduled to take off half an hour earlier, so they were meeting at the west gate to take a taxi together.

There was just one thing Ian still needed to do before their meeting, so he dressed hurriedly and went out into the chilly weather.

The frat house was a 10 minute walk from his place, but Ian didn’t even notice. He was just thinking about what he was going to say to Mickey.

As expected, the living room was silent and with only half the number of sleeping bodies than last time. That half was dead to the world after a party they had thrown to celebrate the ending of the finals and the beginning of winter break. Ian figured the other half was already home.

Hoping that Mickey would be in his bedroom as before, Ian climbed the stairs quickly. He sighed with relief when he saw the shorter guy right where he wanted him to be. Well, not on the bed, but sprawled on the floor, his right hand clutching a sheet corner. Like he had tried with all his might to reach for the bed and climb on it, but then had collapsed in defeat.

There was something adorable about that pose that only a week before Ian would’ve found almost disgusting. But now? Now he just wanted to lie next to Mickey and cuddle the shit out of him.

Or maybe…

Ian turned to the door, securely locking it. He removed his scarf, beanie, gloves and coat -the whole winter armor- and proceeded to kneel in front of Mickey. He gingerly undressed the lower half of Mickey’s body, tugging off his boxers and beer-soaked jeans, uncovering his morning wood. Ian leaned down and placed himself in the middle of the other guy’s legs.

Hopefully a morning blowjob would make Mickey more complacent for what Ian wanted to ask him.

Ian went down on Mickey. At first, he just gently placed a kiss on his inner thigh. No movement on Mickey’s part.  Then he licked his cock to place a kiss on the head. Nothing but a murmur and legs spreading further apart. Ian took courage and started stroking the base, tightening his hold.

At that, Mickey’s eyes opened and the guy jumped back immediately.

“The fuck!” he exclaimed. Then, looking at Ian. “Gallagher?”

A strange sense of deja-vu hit Ian, making him grin.

Mickey pressed the palms of his hands to rub off his sleepiness, then looked at Ian with arched eyebrows.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Uh… a good morning bj?”

Mickey’s eyes darted to the door.

“I locked it, don’t worry I'm not that stupid.”

Mickey visibly relaxed at that information, despite the roll of his eyebrows that told Ian he didn’t necessarily agree with that statement. Mickey yawned without covering his mouth and opened the nightstand drawer to fetch condom and lube. He tossed them on Ian’s lap.

“Since you’re already here…” He leaned back against the bed and spread his legs again.

Ian grinned wider, going down on him again. He started sucking, while using his fingers to prepare Mickey to accommodate his size. Ian kept his eyes fixed on Mickey, whose own eyes darted everywhere but the redhead. Mickey had one of his elbows propped on the bed and bit his forearm to stifle his moans.

Ian was so turned on by the sight that he sped up the process, undressing in a flash and rolling the condom over his dick. Before Mickey could turn over, Ian pushed him down so that Mickey’s back was flat on the carpet. He grabbed a pillow from the bed and positioned it under Mickey’s hips. Ian was sure that if Mickey was not so drowsy, he would have put on a little fight for the choice of position. Instead, he was malleable in his hands and Ian exploited that to put one leg on his shoulder and the other behind the small of his back. He entered in that tight warmth, sighing in pleasure.

Since it seemed like the right moment, he tried to go slow. It wasn’t exactly lazy morning sex, but the closest they could probably get. It was after Ian bottomed out, that Mickey trailed his leg a little lower, pressing on his ass. That was his clue to "move fucking faster” and Ian’s dream of intimate sex went out the window as he started to increase his rhythm. Not that Ian would complain anyway: sex with Mickey was sex with Mickey, he'd get what he could.

“Mh… Mickey you’re so…” he started, then stopped when Mickey clenched around him because he had reached his orgasm. Ian was so fixed on looking at his face taken by the pleasure, that he didn’t notice Mickey stroking his own cock. Ian wanted it to last longer, he wanted to continue watching Mickey’s face while he was inside him, but climax came for Ian too, and he released inside the condom. He collapsed on Mickey and the shorter guy let him. For like three seconds, then Ian had to lay down on his back to catch his breath.

“This is definitely a good morning,” Mickey commented, after regaining his voice.

“Definitely.”

Mickey didn’t lose any more time and put on his sweats without bothering with the boxers. Unwillingly, Ian started to dress himself. He took the hint that Mickey wanted him gone when Mickey lit up a cigarette and told him

“See ya next year, Firecrotch.”

It was not what Ian wanted, but it was always better than “Fuck off” and that encouraged Ian to dare.

“What are you doing for New Year’s eve?”

“Huh?” Mickey shrugged, not even offering Ian a drag. “Guess I’ll do some shit with my brothers. Get wasted… The usual.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Nah man. You haven’t tried wasted until you try the Milkovich kind of wasted.”

“But wouldn’t you like to do something different?” Ian suggested.

At that, Mickey took the cigarette out of his mouth, finally looking straight at Ian. “What the fuck are trying to say?”

Ian felt like he was walking on a landmine.

“Uhm, I was thinking about going skiing and…” He rubbed his neck, nervously. “And, you know, we could go together maybe? Not that you have to ski if you don’t want to. Or if you don’t like the mountain, I’m sure we do find something else…” Ian knew he was talking too fast, but he wanted to get it out of his system the sooner the better. Especially since Mickey’s expression didn’t look very enthusiastic. “I mean, I know that we haven’t been seeing each other for very long, but…”

“What?” Mickey pinched his nose, then lowered the hand to his mouth. He was smiling, but he didn’t look happy. He looked baffled. “Sorry, but what do you think is going on here?”

Ian didn’t like where that was going. “Well, we’re seeing each other, we fuck, so…”

“That’s right, Gallagher. We know each other exists and we fuck around. You’re horny, I’m horny, we bang. That’s all.”

“But I thought-“

Mickey didn’t even let him finish. “No, you did not. Unless you have the brain of a fucking twelve year old little girl. Are you a little girl, Gallagher?”

“Hey that’s not-“

Mickey interrupted Ian again by shoving him against the door.

“Gallagher don’t tell me I led you on, because I sure as fuck didn’t. What didja think; we’re boyfriend and girlfriend here? You’re nothing but a warm mouth to me.”

At these cruel words, Ian lowered his head, not wanting to look at Mickey. His fists ached to punch Mickey straight in the fucking face.

“Believe me, I’m doing you a fucking favor.” Ian heard the sound of the door being unlocked. “I’m going to the kitchen now. Wait another fifteen minutes before leaving. Or climb out of the window. I don’t care.”

The door closed behind him.

Ian remained silent for a minute, gathering all his strength not to cry. He was strong, he had army training, Mickey and he had been screwing for barely more than a week. It didn’t mean anything.

Yet all he wanted to do was to break something. Dammit.

And he did.

He found Mickey’s laptop and crashed it on to the floor.

As soon as he heard the sound of the laptop shattering, Ian came back to his senses.

_Fuck. Fuck. FUCK._

He needed to calm the fuck down.

He breathed. _One, two three, four…_

Again. And again.

Ian opened the door. The hell with Mickey’s fifteen minutes. He climbed down the stairs so fast that he was out of that house in less than a minute.

When he got outside, he was finally able to breathe.

 

***

 

“Where the fuck is he?” Mandy huffed, making a perfect chipmunk face that everybody else but Mickey would have deemed adorable. “He should’ve been here like twenty minutes ago!”

Mickey was on his fourth cigarette, and he passed one to the taxi driver waiting with them.

“I guess he’s going on his own,”Mickey suggested.

“Maybe you’re right, but he should’ve told me! How difficult is it to send a fucking text?!” Mandy tried to call Ian again. It was the nth time she was trying to reach him. She sighed again when the call went to the answering machine.

“Not responding?”

“Whatcha think?” She was worried now. “What if we go to his apartment? I think I know where it is.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen. We’re already late. If we miss the flight I’m not the one explaining the reason to Pops.”

“The hell!” she retorted, but she nodded reluctantly. “Ok, let’s go…”

She was still not convinced that Ian Ian wasn’t coming when they got in the car, and even when they started to move, she pressed her head to the back window to see if Ian was running after them.

Mickey turned her around.

“C’mon Mands, he’s a grown ass man, I’m sure he knows how to take a taxi.”

“Yeah I know that but-“

“No buts. He’ll call you as soon as you can.”

Mandy fell silent and closed her eyes, resting her head on the backseat. It was only then that Mickey dared to look back himself. No redhead in sight.

It didn’t take a genius to know the reason why Ian hadn’t shown up.

“Fuck you, Gallagher…” he muttered to himself, and closed his eyes.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any questions, this is my tumblr [jainsel-rumblefish](http://jainsel-rumblefish.tumblr.com)
> 
> And many thanks to Pink_Ink here who gave me the green light before posting this chapter <3 love ya


	6. A Gallagher Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How are the Gallaghers planning to spend their Christmas?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok! This chapter is unbeta'd. I've decided to give it a try, so any grammar mistakes are on me!  
> Still, if they're really too many, just, you know, point them out by sending me a message on tumblr or an email :)
> 
> I'll be posting chapter 7 (A Milkovich Christmas) by tomorrow or sunday!

The plane was landing at the Abilene Regional Airport while Ian was doing his breathing exercise.

_ One two three… _

The middle-aged woman seated next to him placed her hand on top of Ian’s.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart. Is it your first flight?” she asked. She probably thought Ian was scared the plane was about to crash or something.

Ian tried to smile at her and nodded. He didn’t want to engage in a conversation right now.

He knew it was stupid to be still upset about Mickey’s words, but they hurt nevertheless. The previous afternoon he had been scared he was losing his mind. He hadn’t even replied to Mandy’s calls and had booked another flight for the morning after. That night Ian had called his psychotherapist and had released his vomit of words. She had listened to him patiently in silence and when she couldn’t hear anything on the other side, she started to speak. With her soothing, sweet voice Lydia had helped Ian to release the tension, concentrate on her tone of voice and do his breathing exercise. She didn’t deem necessary to change his meds prescription since they had worked so far so good, but his doctor would’ve done it if Ian felt so upset again. In that specific case Ian’s reaction had been intense, due by this Mickey rude rejection, but Ian had been able to walk through it. Always better to keep it monitored, anyway. She had also added to update his journal daily and to come see her right after the break. Half an hour later, the call was disconnected.

The plane landed and Ian tried to focus on the prospect of seeing his family. They hadn’t told him, but he was sure they were all outside waiting for him with a fucking banner.

Ian went through the gate and there they were. It was not that difficult to notice his family: a large group of loud people… with a fucking banner with them. The caption: ‘WE MISSED YOU!!!’. He noticed that there was another word written below it, but it was covered by paint (he’d later discovered that they had used the same banner for Lip’s arrival and the complete original sentence was “WE MISSED YOU ASSHOLE”).

Between embarrassment and delight, Ian joined his siblings. He had thought he would’ve worried them with his bad mood, but he discovered that the mere sight of his family caused him to naturally smile. He really missed them.

Ian went straight to his siblings, but before the hug-time, he let his head wander, like he was looking for something.

“What is it?” asked Fiona, worried. “If you're looking for Debbie, she's at home with Emily.”

“Where’s Billy? I wanted him to be the first I hug today,” replied Ian with a shit eating grin.

Fiona punched him straight to his shoulders.

“Dumbass…” Then hugged him tightly. It seemed that the gesture was perceived by the rest of the Gallaghers as a signal and they all wrapped their arms around him and Fiona. It was difficult to breathe, but he decided he could suffer a little more if that was the price to pay to be with his family again.

“I missed you too guys,” Ian said. He looked down, noticing that Liam was still pressed against him, his index firmly locked in one loop of his jeans. He gently caressed the curly top of his baby brother’s hair.

Carl elbowed Lip in the ribs. “See? That’s what you were supposed to say.”

Lip rolled up his eyes.

“What did he say then?” asked Ian, looking at Lip who shrugged.

“Nothing. He was so embarrassed that he turned around to get back on the plane. Like we don’t do this every year.”

Ian laughed. That was totally Lip. He wrapped an arm around the older brother shoulders, noticing how thin he was.

“You eat there, yes?”

“Fucking hell!” Lip glared at Fiona, who was laughing. “Not you too! I’m fucking stressed in this period, alright?”

Ian nodded, giving Lip a pat on the back. “That’s fine. Easier for me to beat the shit out of you, big bro.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can we get the fuck outta here? I need a fucking smoke.”

 

***

 

The ride took an hour, but Ian was patient. He relaxed looking out of the lowered window, falling asleep in the middle of the sound of his family’s loud voices. His siblings didn’t try to wake him up, they guessed he must have had fun partying the night before.

When they arrived at the ranch, they let Ian nap for a little while. Grinning like idiots they took Billy’s rein, bringing him closer to the car…

“THE FUCK!” Ian shouted, when Billy pressed his wet nose against his cheek and waked him up. The pony seemed to whinny quite happily when Ian looked at him. His siblings were laughing, but Ian’s face softened when the pony put his muzzle against his forehead, giving it a little bump. Maybe Ian was joking earlier with Fiona, but he had really missed that fucking animal. Billy had been bought as a birthday gift to Debbie, which she had appreciated until she had discovered guys and joined a bad company of friends. Later, Billy had helped Ian when he had come back from the hospital; he would always accompany his master for his running or simply walking along side him.

Ian got out of the car to properly pet the pony, until he received a loud “AHEM!”. He turned round to see Debbie holding the baby, who not even a year old, already possessed more photos than a top model.

Ian’s smile doubled.

“Who’s my favorite niece!” he was already making stupid faces, he knew that. But he really couldn’t help it when that dolly was already giggling and pointing her arms towards her uncle (favorite uncle as well, of course). When Debbie was pregnant Ian hadn’t been there for her, but he had seen Emily being born and he had loved that baby with all his might ever since.

Ian reached for Emily and leaned enough to kiss his youngest sister on her cheek. Then snatched his niece from her arms and started kissing the squiggling baby.

“Yes I missed you too, baby girl!” kisses and kisses and kisses. All on Emily’s face.

“Tsk, she gets all those kisses and all I get is a peck on the cheek? She’s such a prima donna!” Debbie pouted, to smirk ten seconds later and take Emily back. “So? Isn’t she the cutest!”

She began talking no-stop about her daughter all the way to Ian’s bedroom. He forgot the duffel bag back in the car but he was sure somebody was retrieving it anyway. Debbie didn’t even notice Ian’s yawns and she had to be dragged back in the living room to let Ian sleep a little.

 

***

 

Christmas Eve’s dinner was being held in the barn. It was the only closed space big enough to fit everyone in. It was not just the Gallaghers, Fiona had invited her boyfriend Ray, the other cowboys and workers at the ranch, plus some of their neighbors. Almost everyone was there, except the Balls, who were coming the day after. Fiona was all smiles and they were actually genuine. The Gallagher family had moved in Texas almost four years ago and Fiona was well acquainted with all of those people by now. Once she had even dared to enter a contest for the best pecan pie and she was still embarrassed to look at the framed picture with her certificate of participation in her hands, covered with flour from head to toe and egg white in her hair.

Ian was standing next to Lip, the both of them the most out of place of the group. Lip was always at Caltech or shut in some of his friends’ garage to build something that had to do with robotics (nobody in his family understood what the hell was he studying and nobody cared as long as he was happy and less of a douchebag). Ian had been away for just four months, but before he had been too engrossed with thoughts of West Point, then he had been diagnosed with bipolar and he had isolated himself when once he had started taking meds. 

Things began to change when Fiona invited everyone to take a seat. Debbie had crafted placeholders together with Liam (while trying to keep Emily away from scissors and glue) and Ian went in search of his. His seat was between Lip (thank fuck) and a guy he didn’t know: he was dressed up for the occasion and turned to smile at Ian. A really flashy white one. He was heavily tan, like Ray and the other boys and shook hands with Ian.

“Timothy. My friends call me TJ.”

“So I need to call you Timothy?” asked Ian with a grin.

“Nah, you’re Fiona’s brother, you’re already my friend,” he replied. Ian noticed that they had held hands for a little too long and turned his head to look at Fiona, who was smiling at him and made the heart sign with her fingers. Fucking matchmaker.

“So, are you one of Ray’s guys?” Ian gave TJ all his attention, completely ignoring his sister.l

“Yep. Just started two months ago. Before I worked in another ranch, but the owners were, ugh, let’s say they weren’t nice to work for, you know.”

“They can’t be worse than Fiona, she’s such a nagger sometimes,” Ian joked.

TJ laughed, agreeing with Ian, but he added “Yeah, but at least Fiona and the others are okay with me being gay.”

Ian felt a mixture of pity, because if South Side was not gay friendly, he couldn’t imagine in a ranch in Texas, but at the same time he was a little annoyed that TJ had already put his cards on the table (especially since he was blatantly checking Ian out with appreciation). Still, TJ was an eye candy. Muscular and with a handsome face, a veiled stubble that was a failed attempt at making him appear older and rougher; his blonde hair would tend to fall down on his eyes, just like Ian’s red one. Overall, he seemed fucking nice ( _ not like someone else… Dammit Ian, get a grip! _ ). Ian discovered how fun TJ was during the dinner and he was so engrossed in a conversation with him that he didn’t notice Carl on the other side.

The younger brother was constantly checking his phone, with a mischievous grin plastered on his face. Lip kicked him under the table, looking at him with a glare that usually meant “What the fuck are you planning?”. Carl shrugged and continued to look at his phone.

They were almost at the end of the dinner, when Fiona got up and clinked on the glass filled with champagne. She appeared nervous and she was smiling like a little girl who was dying to tell a secret.

“Ah uhm.” She began. She looked down at Ray, who was smiling just like she was. “Here we are, in such a nice evening, celebrating Christmas Eve. I’m so happy that you’re all gathered at this table-“

“Cut the crap, Fi!” shouted Lip from his seat. Some people frowned at him, but Fiona scowled at him with benevolence.

“Ok, Ray and I are engaged!” exclaimed happily. Ray raised up to embrace her. “And fuck you, Lip!” 

She almost didn’t finish her sentence that Ray was already eating her face, surrounded by cheering and whoop whoops!

They were all so happy for them. Ian couldn’t stop smiling. After that bastard Jimmy she had been so scared at the idea of a long term relationship that he had feared everlasting spinsterhood for his sister.

While they were all clapping, they didn’t hear the barn door being suddenly shoved open. A man that was the stereotype of a Texan pure-breed, with hat and spurs, barged in the barn armed with a rifle. He shouted.

“CARL GALLAGHER!”

Everybody froze at the sight of the mad man. Except for the wanted Carl Gallagher, who jumped from his seat and started running towards the other exit.

“You’re a dead man, Gallagher!” the man with the rifle chased after him. A loud 'BANG!' resonated in the barn. They all ducked down. It was only thanks to Ian and TJ’s reflexes that he was tackled to the ground before he could actually shoot somebody. The man tried to free himself from TJ’s grip, but it was all for nothing. Ian stood up to grab the rifle, opening it to take out the cartridges left. He tossed the weapon somewhere on the hay.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Ian saw Carl behind a ball of hay. He was fucking texting, all calm and shit.

“Carl! Get the fuck out of there!” he shouted.

Carl glanced one more time at his phone, then pocked it in his pants. He approached Ian.

The older brother pointed at the man, who was sending death glares at Carl.

“Can you please explain what the fuck does he want from you? A part from your death.”

Before Carl could answer, the man spoke. He looked like a rabid dog and he spat

“This fucker knocked up my daughter!”

Now all the stares were definitely on Carl, who just shrugged. Fiona was with her hands on her face. No way, she couldn’t have another sibling as a teen parent. Carl was just fucking fifteen! She thought he was all sportscars and stealing/destroying stuff with his good for nothing friends!

“What the hell, Carl!” she exclaimed, gripping Ray’s forearm so tightly that even that big guy was flinching under it.

Even under the hostile stares from that man and his oldest sister, Carl seemed composed and… rather pleased?

TJ let the man to stand up, but always keeping his hands behind the back.

“This… this devil took my daughter’s precious innocence!” he cried. “She was supposed to remain pure until her wedding. You’ve ruined her! She’ll never find a good man in our church now!”

Ian’s eyes widened. What had Carl gotten himself into?

“Uh, are you one of that church up the hill?” someone asked. Nobody said “that church full of integralist bigots?”.

The man tried to give himself an air of composure. His eyes never leaving the totally relaxed Carl. “Thomas Richards, of the Reformed Church of Saint Euthalia. This… this…” He pointed Carl with his chin. “He seduced my Cassie and now she’s ruined!”

Lip scratched his temple, coming forward. “So… Carl is our brother. There’s no way in hell that we’re going to let you shoot him. Your daughter is already pregnant. We’re in a bit of a stalemate, here.”

Thomas breathed in and out. It looked like he was about to pass out (or going berserk and kill Carl). In the end he spoke

“He needs to marry my daughter.” Now he surely got all people shocked attention. “It’s already terrible that she conceived the baby outside of marriage, but I’m not going to let her give birth to a bastard! At least your brother was baptized in the name of the Lord… YOU! You have to marry her, or else-“

“Okay, I’ll do it.” Carl simply replied.

“WHAT!” it was the general comments of everybody at that eventful dinner.

But the one who was more surprised was Thomas, who hadn’t expected Carl to give up so easily.

“Really? You’ll marry my daughter?”

Carl simply looked at him. “Yes, please.”

At that, the man visibly relaxed, like just in that moment he had realized how tired he was. TJ released him, always watching out for sudden moves. The only move that Thomas made, though, was to held out his calloused hand to Carl.

“Do I have your word?”

“I’ll marry Cassie, sir.”

“Good. Good…. Son,” Even Thomas seemed to think how weird it was calling Carl that. “But if you’re lying…”

“’m not.”

The man nodded. He scratched his cheek, trying to think what else could be said, but evidently there was nothing to add. He retreated, reaching for the door.

“So, uh… have a good Christmas Eve, y’all.” With that, he awkwardly closed the door behind him.

Now all the stares were once again back to Carl.

“WHAT THE FUCK CARL!” shouted all Gallaghers (well, except for Liam and Emily).

Carl tried to put on his best innocent smile. Unfortunately, there was nothing innocent in it.

“Let me explain…”

“You bet you have to explain!” Fiona was already walking towards him. She still had to decide if she wanted to punch or hug him. A regular indecision when it came to Carl.

“I didn’t knock her up. But I did pluck her cherry,” Carl said, wiggling his eyebrows with a big shit eating grin.

“Then why didn’t you say it! You’ll have to marry her now!” Debbie asked.

Carl shrugged. “You seen her father? He didn’t even let us be closer than five feet and only under his supervision. Cassie always has to sneak out to see me. We talked about it and this way is easier. She told her father not even an hour ago. The truth is gonna come out after the fake shotgun weeding.”

“So you’re really gonna marry her?”

“Yep.” After seeing Carl contented smile, nobody could really say anything else. They all knew that Carl was always ready to go great lengths for the people he loved and that once he was set on something, nothing could make him change his mind.

“I… I….” Fiona sighed. Then brought her hands up in the air and walked back to her seat.

“Well, congratulations lil’ bro,” Lip said, accompanying Debbie to their places.

When there were just Ian and Carl, the younger brother added.

“Her family is a nightmare. I  _ had  _ to get her out of there. I mean, this was the least bloody solution we could come up with.”

Ian simply nodded, patting his brother’s shoulder.

“You’re not gonna hear complaints from me. I’m just curious to meet this lady.”

Carl grinned. “She’s going to have lunch with us tomorrow. Fiona still doesn’t know, though.”

Ian choked a laugh.

They all raised their glasses up again. This time to celebrate two engagements.

 

***

 

Christmas lunch was more intimate. A part from the Gallaghers, the others participants were Ray and Cassie. Vee and family were on their way there.

As was expected, the siblings were assessing Cassie from head to toe. At first glance, that girl looked like an angelic creature. She was pale and skinny and with long, blond curly hair gathered in a long side braid; cerulean eyes under eyelids not touched by any hint of make-up. She wore a white shirt under a pallid pink cardigan and a long ivory skirt embroidered with flowery patterns. Nobody could see Cassie and Carl together. Then the girl bent over to grab the roasted potatoes from the oven and it was hard not to notice the beginning of a flashy red thong coming out from the skirt waistline. Not to mention the bow tattoo partially covered by it. Carl had told Ian and Lip that Cassie had three tats and two piercings. And none of the latter were visible on the face. It kind of raised a certain curiosity of where they might be hidden.

When seated, Carl affectionately put a hand on her thigh and she kissed him on the cheek. Ray and Fiona, who was finally wearing her engagement ring, were still in the kitchen, so in love it was almost disgusting. Ian looked at Liam, who was happily drawing, close to Debbie. The youngest sister had Emily on her lap, lovingly tying up her thin hair in a small tail on the top of her head. Lip was up close to the window. He was certainly talking to his kind of a girlfriend, a married teacher who –at least in Ian’s opinion- was leading him on telling him that she would leave her husband. Still, all of his siblings were happy and in love (with a lover, a daughter or fucking crayons). Ian was the only one alone and he almost regretted breaking up with Kash. His thoughts went to Mickey, though, and he blamed himself for the stupid decision of asking Mickey out for New Year. What an idiot. 

Ian’s thoughts vanished the moment Vee and Kev stumbled in. Vee had her twins’ hands each in one of hers, while Kevin had a passed out Frank on his back.

“Frank?!”

Fiona got up, surprised by Frank presence as well as the others. More than a year had passed since they had last seen him and they were pretty happy about it. The last time they had heard of Frank, he was scamming some folks in a rehab clinic for celebrities and wealthy people. 

“Found the poor bastard sprawled next to your gate,” explained Kev.

They decided to put Frank on the living room sofa and went back to the lunchroom. They were in silence for a second or two before Fiona returned to smile.

“Well I guess that now there’s really everyone.” She hugged Vee tightly, then invited everyone to sit down and enjoy their meal.

They were at the dessert, with Ray gone out to check on a newborn horse, when Frank dragged himself in to the room.

“Well? Nobody’s offering anything to their old man?” he slumbered. “I want to have a nice Christmas meal with my fucking family, is it too much to ask?”

“Since your Christmas meal is usually whiskey, no. We got only one bottle and we want to keep it to ourselves,” replied Lip, not even looking at his dad.

“You ungrateful little shit, is it the way you talk to your generous father?”

Lip snickered. “C’mon Frank, just get the hell out of here.”

The others were not saying anything, but their looks made clear they were all thinking the same thing.

“What! Nobody to defend their dad?” He looked down on Emily seated on her high chair. “And who are you supposed to be? I don’t remember having a daughter this young.”

Debbie protectively took Emily to hold her tightly. “This is  _ my  _ daughter. Don’t even try to touch her, Frank.”

What Frank did touch was the bottle of whiskey on the table. Lip rolled his eyes.

“You know, a part from discovering I’m a grandpa. I really don’t get it.” He gulped down the liquor. “Why do you have to be so mean to me. After everything I’ve done for you. I’ve provided you with such a nice roof over your head… I’m the bread winner of this household!”

At that Fiona stood up again, going straight to Frank and pocking her index at his grimy clothed chest repeatedly.

“The bread fucking winner? You never did shit for this family!”

“Oh, really?” Frank took another sip. “Who did you think gave you the money?”

“You didn’t give us the money! You didn’t do fuck but finding a damn lottery ticket on the floor of Kev’s pub!” Fiona blurted out. “You found the ticket and you forgot about it when you were passed out on our couch. It was just thanks to Liam who grabbed the ticket before I tossed out your stinky clothes!”

Ian turned his head to look at the lottery ticket, framed against the wall. Fiona was such a sentimental sap. She had to keep it to always remember how that changed their lives. In a way Frank helped with that, but as an unknown carrier (like the time he owned money to some drug dealer and they drugged him up, sent to Mexico to come back full of cocaine up his ass. He was drunk at the time and he didn’t notice much until he had to shit out all the drug bags). Frank had been so passed out that night at the Alibi that he had taken the ticket thinking it was a dollar bill. He had put it into his jeans pocket and forgot about it. It was only when Liam had started to play with that ticket that Lip had noticed it and they had thought “What the hell, we may as well check the numbers”. Ian had been fourteen when money had started flowing in their lives. At that time he had thought that had  to be the biggest life change in his life. Until his Bipolar disorder diagnosis, that was.

“So what? Didn’t I earn some gratitude?” Frank replied.

“We gave you enough gratitude, Frank.” Ian stepped up, next to Fiona “And you fucking lost it in ten days. How it’s even possible to lose that much money in ten fucking days!”

“I had to settle my debts like an honorable man.” His high and mighty speech ruined by the way he was guzzling at the bottle.

“Yeah, more like you went to the Alibi to buy a round of Kev’s finest whiskey for everyone and your creditors caught up with you.” Ian sneered.

Frank looked at Kev who was trying so hard to mind his own business.

“You told ‘em? You traitor! I thought we were friends.” 

“No Frank, you were my client and not even a good one. Anyways, everybody knows what happened. They talked about it for days.”

“… Well, it doesn’t matter. That's all in the past.” Frank shrugged. “I simply wanted to see my loving family that I dearly missed.”

“We didn’t miss you, though,” said Lip. “But now you’ve seen us, so can you go the fuck away? You’re spoiling our dessert.”

As a reply, Frank took his oldest son’s plate and gulped the dessert down. Lip shook his head, like he found the whole situation almost funny in the end.

“Anyway. This is my house-“

“Your name's not even on it,” said Lip.

Frank didn’t even flinch. “So I’m so sorry if you don’t like it, but I’m going to stay here as long as I like.”

“In your dreams, Frank!” shouted Debbie. “I’m not gonna let your drunken ass near my baby!”

“What?! A kid needs her grandfather! To settle a good example…”

Ian and Lip’s laughter distracted Frank’s rumbling. Offended, he smashed the wine bottle, trying to be menacing. Both his kids knew he was not gonna use it, but someone else didn’t. Swift like a snake, the angelic blonde, who until that moment had seemed totally captivated by Carl, got up behind Frank and chopped at the nape of his neck with her hand. Frank instantly dropped on the floor.

They all stared at Cassie in disbelief.

“What? A girl needs to know how to defend her purity,” she replied with a smile. Carl was glowing with pride and kissed her deeply the moment he got a hold of her.

“Is he dead?” asked Liam, poking Frank with one foot.

“Nah little man, just fainted,” said Cassie in a soft voice dedicated only to children.

Those words seemed enough for Liam. Also for all the others, who relaxed and finished their dessert.

Ray came inside only to find them laughing with chocolate smeared teeth and a passed out Frank lying next to the table.

“Did I miss something?”

The others just shrugged. Fiona made him sit down next to her and gave him a sweet kiss.

“I’ll tell you later.”

 

***

 

At night Frank was already gone. Ray, accompanied by Kev, had thrown him in the truck to drop the drunkard in a rehab quite far from there.

Lip was gone too, called by some of his colleagues for ‘an emergency at the lab’. Nobody knew what the problem was and nobody wanted to know. They had waved Lip goodbye as the taxi arrived and they had gone inside.

Liam was put to bed together with Gemma and Amy and Debbie took Emily to have a warm bath with her. Cassie and Carl were nowhere to be found.

In the living room remained only Fiona, Vee and Ian. Of course, since it was a gay man against two curios ladies, Ian soon became the object of their attention. And for attention it actually meant:

“So, Ian any boys in your life?”

_ Of fucking course. _

Ian knew it was useless to hide something from them. One was one thing, but the two of them together were the Spanish fucking Inquisition. It was better to tell the truth, like ripping off a band aid. He just braced himself.

“Okay. There’s this guy-“

“I like it already!” Vee shouted.

“Not really…”

At that, both of them became serious. Ian sighed.

“He’s gay but in the closet. I mean, the majority of our encounters were literally in a fucking closet. Our first time was unexpected, I didn’t think he was gay, but after, you know. He’s really cute. But also violent and beat other gays up. His family is shit. Rich shit but still shit nonetheless. And it was even fine…. Yeah I know Fiona, don’t look at me like that. Problem is that I thought there was more even though it was just for a week and I got carried away. I asked him to do something together for New Year and he told me… well let’s just say that he made abundantly clear that he’s not interested in more than fucking. And I can’t have that. Not only that.”

It was a long speech, but even Ian realized there was really nothing in it. That speech didn’t contain the hope for a relationship or a little bit of interest from Mickey’s part. It was only the story of a one-week fling.

Fiona looked at Vee, who nodded. The hell, did they communicate telepathically? Girls.

“Sweetie. You know we just want the best for you and this guy… It doesn’t seem like it. He’s toxic for you. It would be maybe another thing if he was into you but he clearly is not. So let me ask you this: do you even like him?”

Ian remained silent, thinking about it. “No.” He said at first. “I mean, I thought I did, but he was the first guy I had an interest in since…”

Fiona and Vee nodded. “You’re not gonna try anything with him, then?” asked Vee.

Ian shrugged. “I guess it’s better if I don’t.”

He received a slap on the back from Vee.

“That’s my baby! Stay away from him and everything will be fine.” Then she looked at Fiona. “And you, girl? Nothing to say about your hot fiancé?”

Ian stopped paying attention to them. He was thinking of this Mickey situation. He knew Mickey was probably not worth it and that they spend such a short time together, but Ian wanted so much to know more about the blue-eyed guy. He shook his head. Vee and Fiona were right. To get over with him, it was better to stay away from him.

Ian thought of a way to get over someone as fast as possible.

 

***

 

After half an hour, Ian got out from the house, telling the girls he was going to see the horses.

He walked for about fifteen minute, enjoying the starry night above him.

Until his green eyes met hazel ones.

TJ smiled at Ian, kicking at the ground with his boot. Ian approached, leaning on the fence.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” said TJ.

“Me too. I changed my mind.” Ian kicked his knee against TJ’s.

TJ had gotten Ian’s number the night before. The excuse was to bring him to visit the ranch and its surroundings, but they both knew he actually meant. That was why Ian had told him that he was “kind of seeing someone else”. After lunch, TJ had sent him a message telling him to meet that night “to see the shooting stars”. At first, Ian had thought he was annoying and obstinate, but after the chat with Fiona and Vee he had decided to give it a try.

“So, wanna see the stars?” asked TJ, coming closer.

“If by that you mean sex, yes,” Ian replied, gripping him by his ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr [jainsel-rumblefish](http://jainsel-rumblefish.tumblr.com)


	7. A Milkovich Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And this chapter is all dedicated to the Milkoviches, that we all love and cherish. Especially Terry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [QueenThursday](http://queenthursday.tumblr.com) for all your suggestions and corrections. You're such an awesome beta <3

When the siblings arrived in Chicago, nobody but their father’s driver was there, holding a white sheet of paper with ‘MILKOVICH’ written on it. That wasn’t surprising. Terry Milkovich had never came once to see one of his sons at the airport and their brothers couldn’t be there. Iggy, the youngest, had to remain in Boston until Christmas Eve because he was the newbie at his law firm, Colin was still in Washington D.C. and Tony… well Tony was in Chicago, but he was always following their father around like an idiotic puppy.

They went straight to the driver, who promptly greeted them

“Welcome home.”

Mickey snorted. “Yeah, home sweet home, indeed.”

 

***

 

At home, there was no one except for the help. Mickey and Mandy were happy to see some familiar faces, like the cook, a good-humored woman who had always had a soft spot for those two. She was the only one who dared to hug them.

“Welcome home,” she said.

Mickey bitterly smiled at her. “It’s good to see you.”

They had to wait until dinner to see their father. Mickey was a bundle of nerves and Mandy was fidgeting on the chair. They were waiting at the table for Terry and Tony and they didn’t know what to expect. That was Mandy’s first time, of coming back from college. Mickey was a veteran, but every time it got to him. Sitting close to him, Mandy could see him scrubbing his hands against his jeans, nervously. She could’ve bet they were all sweaty.

Finally, their father arrived, diligently followed by Tony. Their oldest brother was way bigger than Terry, and there he was, behind him like an domesticated grizzly bear.

_Probably a grizzly bear is more intelligent than Tony, though_ , thought Mandy. But her eyes, as Mickey’s,  were fixed on their father.

His cruel eyes only lingered for a second on her. His attention landed wholly on Mickey. Mandy hadn’t know it was possible, but Mickey’s face became even paler.

“It’s good to have you back, children,” Terry said. He appeared almost composed and went to sit at the head of the table. Tony seated on his right, Mickey was on his left, shielding Mandy who sat next to him.

The maid brought them dinner. Probably Terry wanted to keep Mickey on edge at least until the end of their meal, but nobody could describe that man as patient. He was not a ‘vengeance is a dish best served cold’ kind of person, his vengeance, as well as any other reactions, was hot and bloody, made of punches, and whippings, and terrible words.

“I heard from Calvin that you made good friends with his son, Junior,” said Terry.

Mickey looked surprised to hear good words coming from their dad’s mouth, but quickly recomposed himself.

“Yeah. Uhm, after you told me that you wanted me to get closer to the kid I let him win at poker a few times,” replied Mickey. From the way he fisted his left hand, Mandy could tell he was bracing himself for the calm before the storm.

“And yet Thompson was hesitant to strike a deal with Tony because you have brutally battered his son? What the fuck were you thinking?” Now the stare, from glacial was becoming hot and menacing.

“He was checking me out. He’s a fucking fairy. He had it coming.” Mickey pressed his thumb on his bottom lip. Wrong move. It was a sign of nervousness. One that a predator like their father caught on immediately.

Terry moved fast. He grabbed Mickey by his shirt, spatting “I don’t fucking care how many damn fags you bash, but you need to fucking get into that stupid head of yours that you can’t beat up whoever you want. We have businesses with that family!”

Mickey nodded. “Okay, Pops. Sorry.” He tried to lean back, but Terry didn’t lose his grip.

“What do you think, uh? That I pay your college fees to let you have fun there? To get wasted? To ruin my business?” He pulled her brother closer to him with a jerk. “I give you a bright future and what do you do? You little piece of shit!”

Since that moment, Mickey had tried to keep his eyes on Terry’s, but he had to lower them, unable to look directly at their father’s fury.

“What the fuck did I do to have these good for nothing children?” Terry dropped his strong grip on Mickey, almost throwing him on his seat. “All dumb fuckers! Like this here,” he pointed at Tony. “Can’t do shit and I’m supposed to let him inherit the company? My guard dogs are more intelligent than him! Maybe I should make an exchange and put this twat in the doghouse!”

He wasn’t even looking at Tony, but Mandy could see her brother shrinking, like he was a little child and not the Big Foot he was.

Mandy was trying to follow the example and hoped the floor would just open under her seat. But no, never so lucky.

“And then there’s this junkie skank that made the most trouble!” Mandy shut up, but she dared to glare at her father, who gritted his teeth, but stopped ranting about his daughter. His attention was once again focused on his youngest son.

“You were my fucking last hope but no, an idiot like your brothers, making idiot moves and even more idiot choices. You’re lucky that people seem to like you.” He pulled Mickey by the hair, getting him so close that surely Mickey could feel his alcoholic breath against his nose. “You try again to fuck shit up and I’ll make you regret it.” Terry had pulled so hard that a small strand of dark hair remained in his hand when he let Mickey go. His son didn’t say anything, though. he didn’t even flinch. Just nodded.

“Sorry,” he just added, a minute later.

Terry grunted, taking again the fork in his hand. “You better be. The Thompsons are coming at the party and you’re gonna apologize to that freak of a son.”

“Yes, sir.”

There was a moment of silence. The three of them resuming eating.

“His son’s a fairy. Uh?” Terry munched, with a piece of steak in his mouth. “Fucking faggots, they’re everywhere…”

Considering that no one of the siblings got beaten up that evening, that could be listed as a good evening in the Milkovich manor. Even if everybody knew that Mickey didn’t get punched in the face only because he needed to be at his best for the party.

Before going to bed, Mickey let his sister hug him, albeit reluctantly. She watched him go to his room, massaging his scalp and she went into hers, locking it behind her.

 

***

 

Christmas Eve was certainly not a day for family and friends. Not that the Milkovich had any real friends, only clients and people who owned them a favor. The closest friends Mickey and Mandy ever had were Iggy and Colin, their two youngest older brothers and some of the help. Even at school they had to get close to people they did not like.

Talking about people they did not like. The party was full of them. Mean, boring or just incredibly snobbish people in perfect dresses and sparkly jewels. Mandy too was clothed in a dark blue dress with a sapphire pendant around her neck, but she felt so out of place there, especially after two years of absence and the consequent gossips that had circulated in whispers around her. She looked at Mickey, who was side by side with Terry, talking with the Thompsons. She could see that even if he was apologizing, his clenched fists were saying otherwise. Mickey had never been good at lying and when he had to it seemed like he was hurting. That was one of the reasons why Mickey could not be a good politician. Mickey was actually charismatic and smart; people would follow him and always expected him to be the one who had everything under control. He was a leader. But he was no hypocrite, it was not in his nature. When he had to be fake, to say things he didn’t mean, Mickey would have that look in his eyes that made Mandy wanting to hold him in her arms; like he was dying inside, little by little, piece by piece.

Their father didn’t care about his son’s happiness. Nor of any other of his progeny. Mickey was his favorite and he was also the one Terry would abuse the most. Mandy’s heart would break every time Mickey felt small and insignificant, angry at the world and unworthy of love. She tried to give him her affection, yet she had abandoned him for two years. She was at least grateful he had been far away from Terry’s grasp for most of the time, being in college.

Yet Terry did not need physical distance to convince Mickey he could not escape his destiny. Terry had decided since Mickey was only a little boy that he was the one to follow a political career. He had seen how his other sons followed his lead, he had seen that confidence in his eyes. And he then had proceeded to destroy it.

When she was younger, Mandy couldn’t understand that. She had thought it was just the way it was. Even when the Milkovich’s brutality had ruined her as well. It was only when she had come back after that nightmare that she had seen things for what they truly were: an abusive environment that they couldn’t escape from.

“Such a nice dress!” commented a woman a few years older than she was. From the accent, she was from South America.  She was already a little tipsy, not caring that her own dress neckline was doing a bad job of keeping her tits covered.

“Huh, yours too,” she replied, sipping her champagne.

“Estefania Lishman,” she presented herself. She then pointed behind her. “That one is my good for nothing husband Jimmy. But at least he’s cute, no?”

Mandy looked where she was pointing and saw that this Jimmy was talking to Mickey and their father. He looked like he was going to faint.

“Mandy. Yeah, cute,” Mandy said.

“Not that good in bed, though.” She murmured. Then she made eye contact with one of the waiters. Her smile became lustful. “Well I have to go. See you later!”

With that, she disappeared some place else to try the shrimps on stick that the gorgeous waiter was certainly making her taste.

Mandy wanted at least one of her brothers (not Tony) to keep her company, but they were all doing their duties as Terry’s pawns. She should be doing it too, by making eyes with some rich guy, but she didn’t really feel like it. Before it was easier, at least she could get drunk and flirty enough to forget about her situation. Now she could find some solace in texting with Ian, but it was at least an hour he wasn’t replying, probably busy having fun with his family.

“God, what a tool,” Mickey approached her. “That Jimmy guy is like his father-in-law puppet. He made, like, this long speech about smuggling drugs from the border without actually naming the word ‘drug’. It made everything longer and boring… Huh. You texting your boyfriend?”

Mandy was not interested in Mickey’s words until he asked about Ian.

“Yeah, so what?”

Mickey shrugged. “Just wanted to know if he took his flight.”

“Oh. He fell asleep and had to take one the morning after.”

Mickey took out his own phone, looking at it and then pocketing it again, with a grimace. “He told you, when?”

“After he arrived home. Why, you want me to say hi from you? Didn’t know you two were in such good terms” she joked.

“As if, bitch,” he smirked. The smirk was not true, though. Mandy blamed their father’s influence for that.

The two started talking, pointing more or less subtly at the guests. Terry interrupted their almost joyful moment. He approached them accompanied by a tall man with gray hair and blue eyes so bright they seemed white. Yet, with all his stature and glacial eyes, Terry remained the most menacing figure between the two.

Terry was smiling, coming closer to pat Mickey’s back. And to rest his hand there.

“Mickey, I want to present you Mr. Kudrin. He was an ambassador in Russia, but now he’s working at the White House.”

“Please call me Gene.” The man greeted Mickey, shaking his hand. “I’m a consultant for the Secretary of State.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Mandy saw Terry’s hand pressing harder and harder into Mickey’s back.

“Please to meet you, Gene,” Mickey said, trying to put on his best smile.

“If only I knew there were going to be such young and friendly people here, I would’ve insisted that my daughter spend the Christmas holiday with me instead of her mother back in Russia.”

“I’m sure she’s having a great time there, anyway. We can be pretty boring sometimes.” Mickey was really trying to humor their father by appearing the most pleasant as possible. Mandy could barely endure to see Mickey forcing himself like that. He was going to get an ulcer before he hit twenty-five years of age.

“With her mother? Never trust a Russian woman, boy. I just hope Lana won’t take after her,” commented the man. He was definitely in a good mood due to the alcohol and Terry’s cajoling.

Mickey laughed, the hand against his back clenching on his skin through the layer of clothes as encouragement.

They laughed and joked for a little while, until Mr. Kudrin went back to the buffet. Terry released his grip and patted Mickey’s back, satisfied.

“See? It’s not that difficult.” He said, before following his important guest.

Mickey remained still. Mandy touched him on the forearm.

“Mickey…”

Her brother shoved her off, murmuring “Need to piss.”

He took off, again checking his phone, annoyed before disappearing in the hallway.

Mandy leaned with a sigh against one of the white column. She needed a refill of champagne. She didn’t want to get drunk, but a bit of alcohol was much needed on such occasion. She reached for the only glass left on a trail, when her hand was brushed against another one, probably trying to reach for the same object. Mandy was no coward, but when at home she had to play the rules and being rude to the guests was not among them.

She retreated her hand.

“Mands?”

A familiar voice recognized her. She felt her guts wrench at that. Mandy wanted to make Ian’s breathing exercise, but there was no time. She braced herself and looked up to find Rick, one of the people she had hoped never to see again.

“Hi, Rick,” she greeted. Why didn’t she take the damn glass? She needed alchol in her system now.

“It’s been so long… Ay Trev, look who’s here! Mands! Remember her?” Rick waved to another guy, tall and lanky.

Trevor looked at Mandy for a few moments before smiling.

“Mands! God, I almost didn’t recognize you. You know, with all your clothes on and a clean nose. And I really thought you were a natural blonde!”

Mandy gritted her teeth. What put her to shame was that she knew that Trevor didn’t mean any harm by saying that. It was a simple statement for him.

“Yeah, right? Look how she cleaned up,” said Rick. “Just like us.”

She knew from their red eyes, the continuous brushing of their nose, Trevor’s leg fidgeting, that they didn’t really clean up. They had only put on some nice clothes. Mandy wasn’t like that. Not anymore. For that, she needed to stay the fuck away from them.

“It was nice to see you again, guys, but Iggy’s looking for me…” she said as a pretense, making a head gesture.

“C’mon. You don’t want to reminisce the past? We could go out in the back and talk a little or whatever.” Rick grabbed Mandy by her arm. “Emma is here too, I’m sure she missed you. Unfortunately, Troy couldn’t come…”

_Troy_. At that last name, Mandy felt a shiver down her spine. She didn’t even want to remember that fucker.

“Well, bad luck. Listen I really need to go-“

“Hey, lil sis.” Iggy and Colin approached her, one on each side of her. “Is there a problem here?”

Trevor and Rick immediately told them that no, there was no problem at all. They were only talking to their old friend. Mandy, finally free from Rick’s grip, slid her arm around Iggy’s waist.

“No problem here. But you didn’t want to talk to me about that thing?” she asked her older brother. Iggy frowned at her, trying to remember if he had actually asked Mandy about something before. Mandy rolled her eyes.

“Oh, right. The thing.” He nodded. “Sorry guys, I really need to talk to my sister. See you around.” Iggy put an arm around her shoulders, leaving the two guys. Colin followed behind.

Once they were out of their range, Iggy took two glasses of white wine from the moving tray and offered one to Mandy. Colin saw a man in a green suit and excused himself.

“Sorry, big investor. Maybe.”

There remained the two siblings. Iggy cleared his throat.

“So, were they bothering you?”

Mandy sighed. “They’re part of Troy’s circle of friends,” she explained. At that, Iggy nodded and didn’t ask for more details

“You know it’s all in the past, though. Right?” Iggy had to ascertain if his little sister was fine for real.

Mandy nodded. Truth was, it was not _all in the past_. Trevor and Rick and even Troy were in her past. But someone else was still not. Was there, in that house. Always.

“Good.” Iggy ruffled her hair, without thinking about the situation. “Oh shit, sorry!”

Mandy pressed a hand on top of her head. Yeah, Iggy did a good job messing with her fucking hair.

“Thanks, douchebag. Well, I needed to go to the bathroom anyway.” She grunted, giving him a little kick in the shin.

On the way to her bathroom, Mandy noticed a human shadow seated on a sofa. The only dim light coming from a cellphone.

“Mickey?” she asked, turning on the light.

Mickey closed his eyes as soon as the light hit him. “What the fuck, Mandy?!”

“Oops, sorry. I so hope I didn’t ruin your pretty eyes,” she mocked him.

“I’m so gonna make you regret it if you did, skank.” Finally, Mickey’s eyes adjusted to the brightness.

“What were you doing here?” Mandy asked, sitting on the sofa with her brother.

Mickey shrugged. “I’m going back. I just…” He rubbed the thumb against his bottom lip.

“It’s just that you don’t want to play nice with all those people,” suggested Mandy.

“It’s not like I have a fucking choice.”

“Yes, you do,” Mandy softly replied.

Mickey stood up immediately. “What the fuck do you know, bitch?”

He didn’t even wait for Mandy’s reply that he was gone, heading towards the party, again.

 

***

 

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” Except in the Milkoviches house.

Iggy, Colin, Mickey and Mandy would exchange their gifts late in the evening, when their father would be passed out drunk. For the moment, though, they had to play their parts.

The three brothers would stick around to greet the guests (or ‘the beggars’, how they used to call them), while Mandy would stay behind her father and Tony, taking the guests’ gifts from their hand to collect them on a big pile. The bigger the gift mountain, the more their father would look pleased. A reminder of his power.

People would come on Christmas day to wish him a merry Christmas while hoping they had done nothing the past year to unleash Terry Milkovich’s wrath. They knew he preferred big wrapped boxes to small ones, only to make the mountain bigger; he didn’t really care about the contents. What he was looking for was to see the look in their eyes, notice them flinch under his gaze and most importantly the money.  He collected a large amount of money on Christmas Day.

Mandy was disgusted by how greedy her father was. He liked the money so much. He didn’t even like to spend it, just have it. Yet, she stayed silent and smiled every time she‘d take a present in her hands.

After a while, though, she couldn’t stand it anymore. It was exhausting. Even just breathing the air in that room was suffocating her. She wanted to go away to have a smoke, to put some distance between herself and Terry and the tension it that room.

Mandy didn’t even excuse herself. She just took off. Before, she wouldn’t even have dreamed to leave, just like that. Terry would’ve come after her. Now instead, Terry just glanced at her and didn’t say anything except ordering Tony to take her place. Tony looked almost offended, but one glare from their father and he was standing behind him to collect the presents.

Mandy went outside all bundled up in her coat. She lit up a cigarette and walked absentmindedly on the white border of the empty swimming pool, until she noticed Mickey lying down on one of the loungers. He seemed rather absorbed in texting something on his phone; then shaking his head while pressing on the screen, probably to delete the text. She immediately decided to bother him a little by sitting on him.

“Merry Christmas, shithead!” she exclaimed, plopping down on his abdomen.

“What the fuck!” Mickey shouted, completely taken off guard. His phone falling on the ground. “Shit!”

Mandy tried to snatch it, but her brother was faster and locked it.

“You’re no fun,” Mandy pouted.

Mickey scoffed. “Yeah you too, skank.” Then he appeared to remember “Shouldn’t you be with Pops?”

“Shouldn’t you be kissing some ass?”

He shrugged. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Deal.” Mandy remained quiet for a few seconds before asking “You know, I’ve never seen you in such a deep relationship with your phone.”

Mickey pocketed his phone. “So what?”

“Nothing. I’m just curious to know who’s the lucky girl.” Mickey never really liked to use the phone. He used it mainly to text and never went on social networks. So, if he seemed so enthralled with it now, it could mean just one thing.

“Fuck off,” replied Mickey flipping her the bird.

“Oh, c’mon Mickey, just tell your favorite sister!” she tried to hug him, not quite achieving the desired result because Mickey stopped her by her shoulders.

“Like I have another sister.”

“Well where do you put Molly, then?” Mandy suggested with a smirk.

“Hey, for your information, our half-sister Molly, is our half-brother Malcom now. After years of therapy, he finally decided that he’s a guy, you know, considering he has a dick. So no, you’re still my one and only annoying sister,” said Mickey, relaxing against the lounger again.

“Yeah, yeah, see? You’re stuck with me.” Mandy pinched him on his arm, making him winch.

“… Just some bitch,” Mickey said after Mandy trashed her cigarette. He was taking one from his pack.

“What?”

“The one you were asking about earlier.” Mickey lit the cigarette. “The phone, you know.”

Mandy smiled. It was the first time that Mickey was actually willing to talk to her about this stuff. She knew her brother had had a decent amount of girls, but he had never been in a relationship that lasted more than a month.

“So, what about her? What’s the problem?” she asked, trying to lower down her instinct to squeak.

Mickey shrugged. “This girl… we have just been fucking for a week and she got all these stupid ideas. Like, you know, we could get serious or something. I told her how things were and now I guess she’s all offended ‘n shit. Like I fucking care.”

“Well, the fact that you are actually telling me this, denotes that you _are_ giving a fuck about her,” Mandy couldn’t refrain herself to say.

Mickey looked at her as if she was the stupidest thing on the planet. “Whatever. ‘s not like I’m gonna text her or something. Bitch needs to know her fucking place,” he said, inhaling his cigarette.

“Yeah. Whatever. And yet you are moping and looking at your phone, all worried and shit.” Mandy snatched his cigarette with a swift movement, standing up. “Just call her!”

She decided it was time to go inside. Reaching the door, she dared to glance back and saw Mickey looking at his phone again, before swearing and pocketing it again. He followed her inside.

The moment they closed the door behind them, they heard Terry shouting inside his room. They also heard feeble laments coming from it. It was easy to guess what was going on. Mickey went straight for the door, followed by Mandy and Iggy. They went inside to assist at the scene they had expected: Terry beating the shit out of some of his underlings and Tony struggling in his mind between the two choices of stopping his father or becoming a wallflower.

“You thought you could fool me?” Terry was shouting. “You’re dead!”

The poor fucker really looked about three punches from dying and both Mickey and Iggy decided to intervene taking each one one of Terry’s arms.

“C’mon Pops, he’s not worth it!” Iggy tried to convince their dad.

“You kill him remember all the guests outside!” Mickey remembered their father.

The guests. That calmed Terry down. He spat on the bloody pulp in fetal position on the floor. “You better not be talking!”

The man just nodded, letting Mandy escorting him out of the backdoor.

Merry fucking Christmas indeed.

 

***

 

Mickey was in Mandy’s bedroom, on Mandy’s bed, using Mandy’s laptop.

“What happened to yours anyway?” asked his sister, a cigarette in her mouth.

“Broken,” replied her brother with a shrug. “Now shut the fuck up, wench. Trying to see the results here.”

She positioned herself behind Mickey to see her brother’s grades. She still couldn’t understand how her brother always managed to pass.

He passed all his exams…

No wait.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” exclaimed Mickey, closing her laptop and almost throwing it against the wall. Fuming with rage, he climbed off the bed and out of her bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Mandy opened the laptop, looking at the only subject he didn’t pass: ‘Government and Politics of the Middle-East’, professor K. Karib.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: back to college!
> 
> [jainsel-rumblefish](http://jainsel-rumblefish.tumblr.com)


	8. Mickey who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian's back after Winter Break.  
> And he's resolved to forget Mickey.  
> ... lol yeah. Sure.

Christmas break had been great. Ian had spent the remainder of his vacation with his family and fucking around with TJ. Really, that guy’s riding skill was not limited to horses. Always in true cowboy style, the hat was included (but not the ‘YYYYAAHHH!!’) while riding Ian in the two cowgirl positions. TJ had also introduced Ian to his group of friends and taught him a little bit of line dance (which Ian had then showed Alan, receiving as a compliment “Ian, if you want to do the Thriller dance shit, just do it in your own room, I’m trying to watch tv here.”). Ian had had so much fun he had almost forgot why he had been so upset in the first place.  
  
  
Coming back to college, Ian had decided that moping was useless and not good for him. What difference would it have made? He would have just made a fool out of himself wagging his tail for that Milkovich fucker again. Mickey had stated pretty clearly that he wasn’t interested in anything but his dick and even that only when he felt like it. Mickey had never sent him a text to apologize for his words or even to wish him a merry fucking Christmas. After talking with Fiona and Vee, Ian had come to the conclusion that he would’ve been pretty miserable to be the one to text first. Especially if no reply was gonna come back.  
  
  
_So yeah, fuck him, what's-his-name_. Ian was going to forget him and his bubble butt and his mesmerizing blue eyes. He would find someone who was interested in him as well, someone to love and to be loved by. Etc, etc. He would be happy and in a stable relationship with a hot guy and a few months from now he would say “Mickey who?”  
  
  
Fact is that since the beginning of classes, Ian had screwed two guys and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember their names. Just two nameless hook-ups. He certainly was not happy with it. He actually felt vaguely disgusted. He didn’t want to be that person again. The one that fucks and fucks and fucks, who does reckless things and wakes up in foreign places. Now that he was on treatment, he looked at his undiagnosed self with a mixture of discomfort and longing, and that was what scared him shitless. The awareness that there were not only danger and embarrassment, but also pleasure and thrilling excitement. He could have it all: pain and sadness and euphoria and energy. There was such a thin line separating him from it: his meds and his routine, which sometimes made him feel like a robot. It would be so easy to feel those extreme emotions again…  
  
  
But Ian didn’t want that. Since he was a kid he would always seek order, need to feel in control. Maybe it was due to having a chaotic, messy family or his brain had wanted to screw with him since the beginning. However, now he wanted to keep himself in power, try to win over his fucked up brain by chaining it with meds and planned actions. Ian could not go abroad to help people by being in the army, but fuck him if he wouldn’t at least try to save himself. He didn’t want to be like a flag that changed direction on a whim of the wind. He wanted to plant his feet on the ground and not be swayed away anymore.  
  
  
The army life had taught him how to plan and stick to a routine. Routine can save your life in case of panic; routine can be engraved into your mind to the point where you don’t even have to think about it. At first, Ian had included Kash in his routine. It had been a good arrangement, but it hadn’t made him happy. Then Mickey had appeared and Ian had though he could have been happy with that guy, but before that could happen he had to bring him into his routine. But he had rushed things, pushed hard and too soon, obtaining the opposite effect instead. But those nameless guys? Who the fuck were they? Ian had to find himself someone to be attracted to or go celibate for a long, long time.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Ian loved Mandy. If only she were a guy…  
  
  
_She would’ve been Mickey. Dammit!_  
  
  
During the break, her calls had been his only salvation after hearing Sam’s complaints about not getting laid. Ian hadn’t really wanted to listen to his daily reports about his missed fucks. Still, they were pretty funny to tell Mandy as a joke. It had certainly looked like Mandy needed some fun stories while at the Milkovich’s manor. She would always maintain a light tone of voice, trying to sound like her usual self. Ian knew better and helped her sustain a cheerful conversation every time. They would never speak about Mickey or any other relatives of hers, only useless, funny stuff.  
  
  
Now that she was back, however, Mandy was smiling and throwing herself into Ian’s arms.  
  
  
“Missed you, fuckhead!” she exclaimed, peppering his face with light kisses.  
  
  
“Missed you too, girlfriend.”  
  
  
She giggled and shoved him a little to untangle herself from the tight embrace.  
  
  
They went to their usual place to get a strong coffee. Neither of them had class for an hour and they decided to take their damn time.  
  
  
“So, boyfriend,” asked Mandy, inhaling the warm scent of her macchiato. “You tapped some ass, I heard.”  
  
  
Ian almost choked on his still too hot coffee gaining a burn on his tongue. Had Mickey told her about them? Whatever ‘them’ was?  
  
  
“Huh?” decided to play it.  
  
  
“The cowboy, TC? JD? AJ?” offered Mandy.  
  
  
“Mhn. TJ, yes.” Ian needed some serious ice on his burned tongue. “What about him?”  
  
  
“What about- You told me about him but not in that much detail. C’mon you slut, I want to know more. Tell me something juicy.”  
  
  
“Well, I learned some line dance moves.”  
  
  
“That’s not juicy at all.”  
  
  
“Yeah, my roommate thinks the same thing. You two just can’t understand the beauty of line dance, really.” Ian scoffed.  
  
  
“Ok, was he good?”  
  
  
“Pretty good. He knows how to move on a dance floor.”  
  
  
“I hope you are using a metaphor to describe wild sex. I’m not accepting any other interpretation.”  
  
  
Ian laughed. “Yeah, that too.”  
  
  
“Are you, like, seeing each other now?”  
  
  
“What? Nah. But I had a good time. Maybe when I go back home, we could hook up again, but…” He shrugged.  
  
  
“He’s not the one?” suggested Mandy. She almost looked serious. Sometimes Ian couldn’t understand if Mandy loved to joke about committed relationships or she was really a romantic at heart. He was inclined to think the latter. Mandy looked as if she was starving for love. Ian could relate to that. Maybe that’s why he felt such empathy with her.  
  
  
“You’re such a sap!” Ian exclaimed, though. “But I guess. Yeah. He just didn’t click with me, you know. A part from that he’s a great guy.”  
  
  
“Of fucking course he is. I know this is so commonplace, but the few great guys left in this world are either married or gay.” She replied with a heavy sigh.  
  
  
“Don’t ever believe that. I can tell yo experience that the combo married plus gay certainly doesn’t mean great guy.” Ian joked, gaining a laugh from Mandy.  
  
  
Then she decided it was time to get a little more serious. “I’m worried about Mickey.”  
  
  
Ian was glad he wasn’t sipping his coffee when she blurted that out, or he would’ve choked for sure, on top of his still aching tongue. “What…. What about him?” He didn’t want to hear anything about Mickey!  
  
  
However, the look in her eyes made him feel like a little shit for being so selfish. She did seem pretty worried. “It’s just… Father is destroying him. I mean, he has always had his way with all my brothers, me… but Mickey. He wants to transform him in something he’s not. And that asswipe is letting him. Like it’s the right –well, the only- thing to do.” She took Ian’s hand. “I’d like him to be free enough to make his own choices, but I guess it’s impossible now.”  
  
  
Ian didn’t want to feel bad for Mickey. Mickey was someone he had a crush on for what, a week? But he could feel bad for Mandy and her worry. He put his arm around her bony shoulders, pressing their temples together. “Your brother’s tough. You don’t need to worry. Everything will be fine.”  
  
  
Then, to liven the situation, he smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to hear the details of Carl’s engagement?”  
  
  
Mandy looked at him a little confused, but then smiled as well. “Sure. Your little brother’s a weirdo.”  
  
  
***  
  
  
On Saturday night, Ian was headed to a party hosted by a fraternity other than Mickey's. A member of Ian’s rowing club, Mark, had invited him, and the other guys, there with the promise of booze, coke, and girls. All of these things were not appealing (never had been or now were dangerous to Ian, but he had decided to accept anyway because he wanted to know his teammates better in a relaxed environment.  
  
  
So there he was, receiving a bear hug from Mark and being dragged inside to receive his first cup of beer. _His first and only_ , Ian thought bitterly.  
  
  
Ian didn’t know that many people were in there. He recognized some faces and remembered the name of some of the rowing team members but he had never really spoken to them except for “Hey, can you help me with the machinery?” and the likes. He decided to go talk with a group of them. He eased without any effort into the conversation; he was sort of a social chameleon and liked to be appreciated by the others. Still, his friends could be counted on his fingers and his close friends were even less.  
  
  
After a while, though, the distance he had started to feel at parties between the other people and him, increased consistently. They were all high, or drunk and Ian was feeling like a looser who had to stay sober to drive. It was ironic that he had to take pills not to get high. It sucked so much.  
  
  
He decided to raid the fridge for something to drink that had no alcohol in it. No such luck. He had to be satisfied with tap water. He was drinking it when he heard a voice directed to him  
  
  
“Hi.”  
  
  
Ian looked up to see a guy still sober  who was smiling at him. And checking him out. Ian licked his bottom lip, doing the same. The guy was not bad. A little shorter than him, caramel skin and brown hair. He looked pretty ripped. “Hi to you too.”  
  
  
“How’s it going?” the guy asked. “I’m Evan.”  
  
  
Ian took his hand to shake it. “Ian. And it’s going fine. A little boring perhaps.”  
  
  
Evan nodded with understanding. “Same here. I can't drink much cause it fucks up all my efforts for this.” He took his shirt up to reveal his sculpted six pack. “You too?”  
  
  
Ian snorted. “Yeah, something like that.”  
  
  
They rested in silence for a few seconds, before Evan talked again.  
  
  
“So, you’re a friend of Stan’s?”  
  
  
“Who?” asked Ian, confused. Did he mistake him for someone else?  
  
  
“Stan. Huh.” Evan scratched at his neck. He seemed embarrassed. “You know him. Uhm. You met him last Saturday? At Clary’s? Tall like me, green eyes, blonde?”  
  
  
_Oh_. Ian just discovered the name of one of his nameless asses.  
  
  
“Right. Stan.” Ian nodded. “Sorry. Got confused.”  
  
  
The guys smirked. “You totally forgot his name, didn’t you?”  
  
  
“Yeah…” and they both laughed.  
  
  
“Stan certainly remembered you, though. He had little stars in his eyes when he told me about you.” Evan’s eyes glanced down to linger about Ian’s crotch to suggest without any words about what Stan had been so excited to tell about. Ian tucked his hands in his jeans front pockets, leaning a little ahead with his waist.  
  
  
“Guess he never tried a redhead before?”  
  
  
“Right. A redhead.” Evan bit his bottom lip. Eyes still fixed on the same spot. “Never tried one either.”  
  
  
Ian put his empty cup down. “Here’s a little too noisy. Can’t even hear you. Wanna go outside?”  
  
  
Playing alone, the other man happily agreed.  
  
  
***  
  
  
There was a full moon out, with such bright stars scattered in the immense deep blue sky. Standing out against such scenery, a tree. It looked majestic and ancient as if it had been there since the beginning of time. There were no leaves on its branches, the snow covering them like a protective blanket. The call of a solitary owl resonated in the air, so sweet and meaningful it would’ve made a poet clench at his sensible heart and start composing the most delicate verses.  
  
  
Yet, if a poet had been there at that exact time, he would’ve had composed a completely different sort of poetry.  
  
  
“OH YES! IAN! Fuck me harder! OH GOD so good! Pound into me like the filthy bitch I am!” Evan howled. He was practically hugging the tree like member of Greenpeace, but with his legs spread to the maximum. Ian liked them responsive but this dude was too fucking loud! “MH! YES! YES! FUCK so BIG! You’re destroying me!”  
  
  
Ian didn’t know if he was supposed to be more turned on, but all he could feel was pain in the eardrums and a strong instinct to roll his eyes.  
  
  
“Keep it quiet, will you?” suggested Ian, continuing with his pounding anyway. At least the guy had a decent ass.  
  
  
“Uh, uh, sorry…AAAAHHH!!!” Evan’s neck almost broke in two when he leaned back due to his impending orgasm.  
  
  
“Hey, what’s going on under there?”  
  
  
A voice came approaching the two having (loud as fuck) sex. Ian pulled out immediately, hastily removing the condom. He tossed it on the snow and put on his jeans. Evan followed the example.  
  
  
“Fuck, fuck!” Evan cried, still not able to tone his volume down. “What if it’s a security guard?”  
  
  
“I knew you were too loud!” Ian with his coat still unzipped, when the voice, now closer, started to sound familiar.  
  
  
“Lookie what we got here!” Mickey exclaimed, finally in sight view.  
  
  
“Mickey?” Ian asked, try to discern the guy’s face. His expression was unreadable to Ian in the darkness, but it was certainly obvious to Evan, who blanched.  
  
  
“Mickey. It’s not what it seems…” Evan was walking backwards, but Mickey was following him with his trademark swagger.  
  
  
“Not what it seems?” Mickey arched his eyebrows, looking unconvinced. “Because it totally looks like you were having some sort of queer-bo sex under the tree. Thought last beating was enough.”  
  
  
Before Evan could manage to run for his life, Mickey kicked him in the groin. Evan flopped on the snow like a dead weight. The shorter guy kicked him right against his stomach. Clenching in a fetal position, Evan muttered  
  
  
“Why are you still beating me up? He was doing it too!” He pointed at Ian. Mickey was having none of that. He kicked him again.  
  
  
“Yeah, but you’re the one taking it in the ass, right? You’re the one I gotta kick straight.” Another kick settled on Evan’s ribs.  
  
  
Ian had to take his eyes off the scene. Not because his gentle nature was shocked by all that violence, rather he had to keep himself from laughing at Mickey’s words. He turned his head again to watch Mickey crouching beside Evan.  
  
  
“It working?” asked Mickey. Pulling that beaten up body by its shirt.  
  
  
Evan nodded. “Yes!”  
  
  
“Good. Now get the hell outta here!” Evan was just getting up when Mickey kicked him in the ass, watching the scared to death guy run towards the house.  
  
  
Only the two of them remained and Mickey looked Ian up and down, pushing his tongue around the corner of his mouth. It was a clear invitation, but Ian was having none of that. He still remembered those harsh words.  
  
  
“Why are you here?” he asked instead.  
  
  
Mickey settled for biting his bottom lip, then pinching his nose. “Came to collect some poker winnings.”  
  
  
Ian scoffed. “Didn’t know your family was so poor for you to become a debt collector for, what? 200 dollars? 300?”  
  
  
“Make it five and add a zero,” replied Mickey, shrugging.  
  
  
“5000 dollars? Are you kidding me?”  
  
  
“Nope. I even gave Sanchez a discount. That prick plays big money, but he doesn’t really have any. I’m sure he won’t be able to pay even now. His father is important, but he’s not rich. It’ll be good to have him indebted to me. Still, I’m going to make him shit himself first.” He smirked, like that made him so cool.  
  
  
“Well, good for you.” Ian deadpanned.  
  
  
“Yeah…” There was a moment of silence, before Mickey stepped closer to Ian. He looked at him with a small, nasty smirk. He brushed a finger against Ian’s bulge. “So. Guess you still haven’t…?”  
  
  
Ian was still rock hard. He was actually ashamed that he had felt more aroused after hearing Mickey’s voice than when he was in Evan’s ass. Now, with Mickey so damn closed to him… “No, thanks to you.” He managed to say.  
  
  
“Wanna come thanks to me, then?” Mickey proposed. In his eyes there was not even a small hint of shame or apology. He was looking at Ian straight in the eyes, his full of lust.  
  
  
Ian held his eyes for a few moments, before giving in. He turned a so-fucking-full-of-himself Mickey against the trunk. Ian telepathically sent a “sorry” to the poor ancient tree. Its duty was still not over.  
  
  
***  
  
  
What the fuck was wrong with him? Ian was doing so damn well trying to get over Mickey. Instead of being over, however, he had found himself pounding him from behind.  
  
  
They were seated on a bench, their asses so cold Ian was sure they were getting frostbite. Yet he couldn’t find in him the will to move away from the dark-haired boy. He wanted to say something, broke that post-coital silence, but Mickey beat him to it.  
  
  
“That was good.” He lighted up a cigarette, inhaling it with satisfaction. “Missed ya.”  
  
  
Ian was surprised by those words. Was Mickey going to apologize or something? “You did?”  
  
  
Mickey passed him the cigarette. “Yeah man, I couldn’t fuck back home.”  
  
  
_Right_. Mickey was not going to apologize at all. What was he expecting? The weird thing was that Ian could’ve sworn to have  _felt_ the apology through the sex they had had. Mickey had seemed more into it, less bossy but more needy. He had even shivered when Ian had softly touched the nape of his neck. But then, that could’ve been due to the glacial temperature. So yeah, who knew.  
  
  
“’Cause of your father?” Ian ventured to ask, breathing out smoke.  
  
  
Mickey snatched back the cigarette. “What are you getting at?”  
  
  
“Well, I guess your father is not the brightest example of a tolerant person.”  
  
  
Mickey rested silent for a few seconds, like he was pondering whether to punch Ian or talk to him. Then he tossed the cigarette, pulling Ian by the coat. “You don’t know shit about my father.” He was now looking at Ian straight in the eyes. Ian couldn’t understand what the meaning behind them was.  
  
  
“But-“  
  
  
Mickey didn’t let him talk, pushing him into the snow and falling on top of him. “Enough chitchat. Ready to go again or do you need some time, Firecrotch?”  
  
  
Ian wanted to continue talking, to unravel some of Mickey’s many layers. Even saying that he was sorry for breaking his laptop. In the hope that an apology would lead to another one. From Mickey.  
  
  
But he was also ready to go again, so “Sure. But can we at least go someplace warm? I’m freezing my ass off out here.”  
  
  
Mickey laughed and stood up, pulling Ian up with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, many thanks to [QueenThursday](http://queenthursday.tumblr.com)!


	9. Hey Mrs Karib!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Kash had it coming.

They were resting in silence, both slumped on the floor. Only their still unzipped pants on. They stole some glances at one another while breathing to regain a normal heart beating. After a while, Mickey offered a cigarette to Ian. They passed it back and forth, not breaking the moment with words.  
  
  
They were back in the closet (literally and partially even figuratively), almost like their encounter before winter break had never happened. Almost, because Mickey had started to do something different. Instead of ordering Ian to fuck off, or dressing in a matter of seconds to fuck off himself, Mickey would linger a little bit longer. Usually he’d share a cigarette with Ian. Ian wouldn’t bet on it, but he suspected that that was how Mickey was trying to correct his words from December. It appeared Mickey was better at acts or actions than words, at least for expressing nice shit.  
  
  
Surprisingly, Mickey was the first to break the silence. Not surprisingly, he didn’t have anything pretty to say. “That fucking Towelhead flunked me! How’s that even possible? I had the fucking answers on my laptop!” He blurted out, kicking a mop, which inevitably fell down with a thud.  
  
  
Ian turned his head, surprised. “What?”  
  
  
“Yeah, can you believe it? The asshole is going to pay. Thing is, they say he took a sick leave. What the fuck I can’t even kick his brown ass like this!”  He was still kicking at the fallen mop, which was now on the verge of breaking for good, the poor bastard. Ian imagined Mickey was using the mop as a voodoo doll for Kash.  
  
  
“You know,” Ian hoped not to regret this later, but he had to say it. “I saw your paper in Ka…rib’s office. You passed. And you kinda aced it.”  
  
  
“What?!” He had Mickey’s full attention now. “He fucking cheat?”  
  
  
Ian decided to gloss over the last statement. A cheater being angry with another cheater was just ridiculous.  
  
  
“Yeah… I don’t know why he did it, though.” Had Kash tried to make a brave gesture once in his life? And he had had to pick Mickey of all people to fuck with.  
  
  
“That pussy fucking grew some balls in the end, uh?” Apparently, Mickey thought the same thing as Ian’s. Now they should think of a way to make Kash reconsider his grade. “Gonna cut them off,” said Mickey.  _No. Not that way._  
  
  
“What? No!” Ian sighed. “Listen. First thing first. We need to retrieve your original paper…”    
  
  
***  
  
  
“How the hell do you have a key even for his office?” Ian asked, as Mickey pushed the door of Professor Karib’s office open.  
  
  
“People owe me favors.” Mickey shrugged. It didn’t seem like a big deal to him, but Ian wondered how many people on campus were under Mickey’s thumb.  
  
  
They entered the small room. The office, as always, lay in a state of utter disarray.  Mickey was playing with his finger against his bottom lip, looking at all the papers scattered everywhere.  
  
  
“Hope it’s here, cause I’m not gonna go through this mess for nothing,” Mickey commented.  
  
  
Ian huffed. “Well what about me, then. I’m not the one who got flunked, am I?”  
  
  
“Yeah well, it was your fucking suggestion, wasn’t it?”  
  
  
“Cause yours was much better? Tsk.” Ian looked at Mickey to dare him to say that yes, it was. Mickey murmured something incomprehensible, but he didn’t reply, except for a grumpy “Let’s get this shit done.”  
  
  
Ian let a grin escape his lips. He would never said it out loud, but he found Mickey endearing. Well, sometimes. The two began sorting all those papers to look for one. It was really like finding the needle in the hay.  
  
  
While they were looking for it, Ian glanced at Mickey a few times. Once he caught Mickey staring right back at him. He smiled a little to himself, causing the dark haired boy to snap, defensively:  
  
  
“The fuck are you smiling for?”  
  
  
“Nuthin’.” Ian tried to conceal the curling of his lips. “Get back to work.”  
  
  
After what it seemed like an eternity, Ian beamed, waving a piece of paper towards Mickey. “Here it is!”  
  
  
Mickey snatched the paper from his hand, looking at it with great attention. “Yep. That’s mine.”  
  
  
Ian had to compose himself rather quickly. It felt quite stupid to be feeling so proud for having found a paper. But he kind of was. What the fuck was wrong with him?  
  
  
“Now we can go beat the shit out of him,” continued Mickey. “He can’t hold anything against me now."  
  
“Except maybe have you arrested for assault and battery?” Ian shook his head. He couldn’t believe Mickey was still hung upon that. Still, he couldn’t ignore the fact that Mickey had used the pronoun ‘we’ in the sentence. How lame was that? “How the fuck you’re majoring in the art of politics?”  
  
  
Mickey looked down, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. This time Ian didn’t feel any sexual vibe off it. Mickey seemed rather bitter. He sniffled, shrugging. “You’d be surprised how many times politicians prefer to start a war rather than fucking talking,” he said. Ian was almost sure Mickey wanted to say something else instead. Then he collected himself. “So, what hippie move you propose, Gallagher?”  
  
  
“Go to his house and talk him into correcting your grade.”  
  
  
Mickey snorted. “That’s it? Talking?”  
  
  
“That’s the best solution without getting you expelled,” said Ian matter-of-factly.  
  
  
“I’d never get expelled…” murmured Mickey. But he nodded. “Let’s try your solution then, ginger Gandhi. Guess I’ll have to get his home address.”  
  
  
“I know it,” blurted Ian without thinking. In the spirit of helping Mickey, he had forgotten to be cautious about his real relation to Kash.  _Fuck_. He could only hope the other boy wasn’t paying enough attention to him to wonder about the reason why he knew it.  
  
  
“How the fuck do you know?” asked Mickey immediately.  
  
  
_You’re an unlucky bastard, Ian Gallagher._  
  
  
“I… Uhm… Needed to ask him something?” Why the hell did that sound like a question? “Yeah, needed to ask him about some stuff. I liked the subject, you know, so…”  _So fucking what?_  
  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
  
“His courses are boring, he is boring. How would you like that?” Mickey asked. The question sounded light, without any meaning behind it, but the way the other boy was looking at Ian, like he was trying to decipher some kind of code, made Ian think that maybe Mickey was not enquiring about what Ian thought of Kash as a professor.  
  
  
“Don’t like it anymore,” Ian settled to reply.  
  
  
That seemed to appease Mickey, who nodded, awkwardly.  
  
  
“We got the paper, let’s go,” said Ian, walking towards the door. He was stopped by Mickey’s words, though.  
  
  
“Why the hurry? We’re alone here. There’s enough light and I really do wanna wipe my ass on Towelhead’s desk. So, what d’ya say?” Ian turned around rather quickly. Mickey was seated with open legs on top of the papers scattered on Kash’s desk. The dark haired guy pushed his fucking tongue against the corner of his mouth, inviting. Why did he have to be so hot?  
  
  
Ian grinned, closing the distance between him and Mickey. “I’d say that it’s quite a great fucking idea.”  
  
  
The both of them hastily unbuckled their belts.  
  
  
It appeared Ian would finally have a truly satisfying fuck in Professor Karib’s office.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Kash’s place wasn't far enough from campus to make Mickey bother to take his precious car. They decided to walk down there. On the way there was an unspoken competition of who would lead the way by walking faster. Naturally, Mickey was the constant loser, but that didn’t seem to bother him that much and Ian would take advantage of surpassing him by touching his shoulder with his own; just little, innocent bumps.  
  
  
In the middle of a row of terraced houses, there was the Karibs’. It was painted in a warm pastel color, giving it a nice, lovely aura. But Ian remembered the interior, full of religious posters, suffocating kitchen smells and proof of Kash’s married life, like toys and photographs. He remembered when Kash had wanted to share the queen-sized bed with him and Ian had gotten sick to his stomach at the thought of sitting on the wife’s side. Reflecting about it now, he would’ve probably broke up with Kash anyway, even without Mickey, just a little bit later.  
  
  
_Mickey…_  
  
  
“I swear that if you punch him the moment he opens the door I’m gonna leave,” said Ian.  
  
  
Mickey smirked “Nah. Gonna be civil if the fucker is too.” He then proceeded to ring at the front door.  
  
  
Neither of them had thought what to say in case Linda Karib was the one to open the door. Luckily, it was Kash. The professor looked at them as if there were two angry ghosts in front of him. Nope. Just Mickey and Ian.  
  
  
“What are you doing here?” he asked. His expression a mixture of surprise and utter horror.  
  
  
“Wanted to see how you were doing, Towelhead.” Mickey was the first to reply. He wasn’t even trying to conceal his sarcasm, why should he. “But you don’t look that sick to me.”  
  
  
Ian was staring at Kash, who had his eyes on Mickey, terrified. The professor was still the same, the same Kash that Ian frequented. Now he just disgusted Ian, though. He was still partially covered behind the door. Ian could hear some faint murmurs coming from the house, voices; he guessed that was his family in there. Kash was torn between coming outside so to close the door behind him without the risk of his family listening and the illusion of security of staying inside the house, as if that door could save him from Mickey’s wrath like a shield. From the look of it, it appeared Kash chose the latter. He looked once behind him, to verify that his family was still doing whatever they were doing.  
  
  
“What do you want Milkovich?” he whispered.  
  
  
“What do I want?” Mickey didn’t bother to tone his voice to Kash’s. “What, you fucking suffer from memory loss? You fucking flunked me!”  
  
  
“You didn’t pass…” muttered Kash, the guilt in his eyes.  
  
  
“C’mon paki, at least be man enough to admit it. Red here told me I did pretty well.” Kash’s head immediately turned to Ian. The redhead rolled his eyes. Now Kash was looking at him as if he had betrayed him or something. Which, technically, was even true, but not the point in question.  
  
  
“You did?” whined Kash.  
  
  
Ian shrugged. He didn’t want to hurt Kash, but after what he had done to Mickey, Kash had actually to thank Ian for not letting the short tempered guy beat the shit out of him. Ian was pretty sure that the flunking thing was more a matter of principle than about really caring about the test result, but Kash still did him wrong and Ian was biased.  _So what._  
  
  
“Not only,” Ian replied, showing Kash the original paper.  
  
  
Kash’s eyes widened at the sight of it. “How did you get that!” It wasn’t even a question. He had to struggle to shout in a low voice.  
  
  
“Doesn’t matter,” replied Mickey for Ian. “We got it. You got shit. You’re a pussy who took my money and one day decided to grow a pair. Well, guess what? Now you’re going back to be the pussy that you are.”  
  
  
“But… But I can’t just change your grade…” whispered Kash.  
  
  
“Yes you can. You’ll say it was a mistake. Everybody already thinks you’re a good for nothing, so it’s not gonna shock anyone.” Mickey shrugged. “If it comes out to the students, you’ll be laugh at, nothing out of the ordinary.”  
  
  
Kash was leaning in, as if having his head outside the house would make his family not notice he was still at the door. Mickey used that to grab his shirt and get him close to his face. “You refuse, I’m gonna show the paper to the faculty, let’s see what happens.”  
  
  
The professor was probably feeling like a horse with the neck trapped by a lasso. “But-”  
  
  
“No buts, Towelhead. You don’t do it, I’ll fucking ruin you. Got it?”  
  
  
Kash hastily nodded. Anything to be freed from Mickey’s grip. He also looked at Ian, almost to implore him to save his skin. Ian didn’t even move, but Mickey noticed the direction his eyes had taken.  
  
  
“No. You don’t even dare to look at him, you old fairy.”  
  
  
Both Ian and Kash stared at Mickey simultaneously. Did Mickey know about them? Now that Ian was thinking about it, Kash did seem shocked to see them at his front door, but not surprised to find Ian together with Mickey. If Kash and Mickey knew he tapped the both of them… Ian wanted to find a shovel and bury himself in it.  
  
  
Mickey seemed to see something in the professor’s eyes. “Oh, that’s rich. You did it because of jealousy? Lame.” He forced his grip stronger. “So, we got a deal, brown ass?”  
  
  
Kash nodded again and Mickey released him. It was in that exact moment that a voice came behind the man “Kash? Who are they?” The woman was on the stairs, staring at them.  
  
  
The professor looked at Mickey and Ian in fear, his eyes imploring them not to say anything.  
  
  
Of course, Mickey Milkovich didn't give a rats ass about his family situation. “Hey, Mrs. Karib! Your devoted faggot of a husband spreads his legs for his young students. I’d consider a divorce!”  
  
  
Without Mickey’s grip to keep him steady, Kash almost crashed on the floor. He looked at his wife to tell her something, probably say something along the line of “honey it’s not what you think”, but Mrs. Karib cut off his poor excuses.  
  
  
“I KNEW IT!” she cried. She stomped down the stairs and looked at the young men for a few seconds, before closing the door shut. Outside the house, Mickey and Ian could still hear the woman’s shouts.  
  
  
They looked at each other and started to laugh.  
  
  
“Really, man? Karib?” asked Mickey, pointing his thumb at the door. There was no anger in his voice; he seemed genuinely amused by his past fling with the professor.  
  
  
Ian shrugged. “Guess I got bad taste in men.” He glanced at Mickey and grinned.  
  
  
Mickey smirked, his tongue playing with the seam of his mouth. He shoved a hand against Ian’s shoulder. “Dick.”  
  
  
“Hey, you are what you eat, right?”  
  
  
They resumed their laughing, shoving at each other along the way back to the campus.  
  
  
***  
  
  
They had had fun dealing with Kash and now they were hyped up on adrenaline. They didn’t stop laughing, their shoving was accompanied by the lingering of hands and sideways glances. Sometimes they would stop laughing and glance at each other, as if they were in some need of saying something, breathing heavier. Then they would bump shoulders and laugh again.  
  
  
Ian didn’t want to think too much of it. He didn’t want to let himself believe that there was something going on between them. Yet he couldn’t deny that there was a sort of complicity between them. They did it together, the blackmailing thing. Well, it wasn’t even that much of a blackmailing, Kash had it coming. But it was enough for them to feel energized.  
  
  
And… horny?  
  
  
Ian wanted to do more than playfully shove Mickey by the shoulder. He longed to push him against a wall, kiss him hard on the mouth and fuck him senseless. A part from the kissing, Mickey looked like he was desiring the same thing. If those heated glares meant something, at least. Neither of them had any plans of doing it in an alley, though. Not when it was this cold. They’d already experienced fucking in the snow and they got frostbites. So yeah, no more, thanks.  
  
  
But the distance from the campus seemed so long now…  
  
  
“Wanna a beer?” asked Mickey, nodding towards a seedy pub. He was brushing his thumb against his lower lip. Almost as if he wasn’t sure about his proposition.  
  
  
Ian shrugged. “Yeah why not. It’s cold as fuck out here.”  
  
  
The pub reminded Ian a lot of the Alibi, Kevin’s pub. A heaven for drunkards who’d spend their entire evening and money (if they had any) on alcohol and slurred words. It felt a bit like home, the one his family had left six years ago. With the appreciated lack of Frank.  
  
  
They sat together in a booth after Mickey had bought them two beers.  
  
  
“This place is a shithole, but their beer is good,” said Mickey, sipping at his glass.  
  
  
“It’s run-down but at least is warm,” commented Ian. “A family friend owns a similar place. He would offer me and my brother beer even if we were underage.”  
  
  
“Yeah uh? Where’s your family from?” asked Mickey. In truth, it didn’t seem like he was paying any real attention to the conversation. His eyes seemed fixed on some part of Ian’s body.  
  
  
“Originally from Chicago, Southside. Now they live in Texas.”  
  
  
“I’m from Chicago,” replied Mickey half-heartedly.  
  
  
“I know, Mandy told me.”  
  
  
“Right…” Mickey’s eyes darted to the bathroom door. “Gotta take a leak,” he announced. But the look he gave Ian told him Mickey had other intentions than to piss.  
  
  
Ian waited not even two minutes, before he dashed to the bathroom too.  
  
  
Mickey was fast to open the door, with a smirk “Need something?” he asked, the piece of shit.  
  
  
“You really want me to go all porn like ‘I need to fuck you’?” Ian smiled.  
  
  
Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever, just come inside.” And, with a swift movement, he dragged Ian inside and locked the door, also preventing Ian from saying “That’s what she said.”  
  
  
***  
  
  
That had been the first time they had laughed while banging. Maybe it was due to their newfound complicity, maybe because that bathroom was really fucking small and it was easy to bump into the toilet or the sink. But they laughed. Like when they discovered there was not enough space for Mickey to bend over and Ian had to put one foot on the toilet cover to get the angle right; or when Mickey bumped his head against the mirror after a good thrust, causing a small scratch to bleed like a motherfucker; also when they opened the toilet cover to dispose of the condom and they were disgusted by what they had found in there.  
  
  
They stomped out of the pub still laughing, Mickey even touched Ian’s hair to mess with it and Ian had to stop himself from kissing him right there and then.  
  
  
When they arrived at the campus, however, they parted ways with only a nod.  
  
  
Ian’s disappointment was suppressed when Mickey called his last name to show him the finger. Ian laughed again and waved him off before walking towards home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again QueenThursday, my grammar savvy :)))


	10. Utterly interesting pictures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey wearing suits, that's all I'm saying.

“So yeah, we had fun and… I don’t know. I feel we got closer? A little bit?” Ian sighed. “I dunno, I think he has changed his behavior towards me? I mean, I guess you should see it for yourself cause I’m biased, but… it’s nice, you know. Now we’re more like fuck-buddy buddy? Like friends with benefits. But then, we were never friends to begin with, so… what do you think?”  
  
  
The woman seated in front of Ian, smiled at him. “It doesn’t matter what I think of him. It’s what you think.”  
  
  
The woman had nice curly brown hair, olive skin, and a perfect smile. Ian was happy that his psychiatrist recommended her to him. He had had an obnoxious psychotherapist back in Texas, whereas Lydia was warm and caring. At least that was what she looked like in her cream-colored studio. They would meet once a week for an hour and Ian would do most of the talking. Sometimes it was easier to manage the monologue, others it was difficult and annoying and he felt like every word had to be extrapolated with force from his mouth. This time, however, Ian had felt enthusiastic enough to start the conversation without even being fully seated.  
  
  
The reason: Mickey Milkovich.  
  
  
He knew that Lydia’s job was not to be his BFF to confide his problems of the heart to, but what if his real BFF was actually his crush’s little sister? Or that his brother Lip was always busy building C3-PO? Even fucking Alan, is roomie with whom he had so bonded, refused to go deep in that conversation, starting to appear less and less in the living room after the nth time Ian had brought up the Mickey topic. Sure as hell he wasn’t going to ask Sam about it, his advice was the worst.  
  
  
So yeah, that kind of left only Lydia as a person he could trust. And he was paying her to listen. Apparently, though, even Lydia didn’t want to give him what he needed.  
  
  
“I don’t know! That’s the whole point!” cried Ian.  
  
  
Her smile didn’t falter. “Listen, Ian. From the looks of it, this appears to be a problem of the heart and you don’t really want my advice on that. In my experience –as a friend, not therapist- I’ve observed that when it comes to crushes, lovers and the like, nobody really listens to friendly advice, no matter how wise it is.” Lydia composed herself. “As a therapist, however, what I need to make sure is that this won’t become a trigger for you.”  
  
  
“Yeah, exactly. Is it?” asked Ian, anxious.  
  
  
“Ian, you have to tell me that. But if the only episode you had related to this guy is when you got really upset after his words a month ago, then no, I don’t think he’s dangerous for you in that sense. I was more worried when you told me of your flings. Still, I’d appreciate if you continue to mention your thoughts on Mickey in your log. I need to monitor that.”  
  
  
“Sure… but what if something bad happens? Or too good?”  
  
  
“Ian, remember you can always call me, any time, when you believe it could be related to your disorder. Doctor Harris, too. If you instead only want to cry because he’s a bastard or you want to gloat because he’s not, then you should call your best friend. A part from that. I can understand your fear. This is the first time you’re feeling something more for another guy since your diagnosis and you told me that you were scared of the possibility.” She leaned closer to Ian. “Having a mental illness and being treated for it doesn’t mean you will never be happy again. You don’t need to stop pursuing love. You only need to be more careful about it.”  
  
  
“And make sure I have a regular sleep cycle and healthy meals and physical exercise, no alcohol…” Ian started.  
  
  
“You’ve just described what every person should do. Difference is, you need it more.” She smirked, because she didn’t like to maintain a too serious tone. “And I’m sure your guy has to be quite happy with the body you get with this routine.”  
  
  
Ian huffed a laugh. That’s why he liked Lydia.  
  
  
***  
  
  
“Aint’ya a lil sexy thing!” exclaimed Mandy, looking appreciatively at Ian.  
  
  
The guy rolled his eyes, finishing the buttons on his olive green shirt.  
  
  
“No, like really. You fucking own green clothes.”  
  
  
“Oh my god, you're serious?” Ian made a shocked face. “Cause nobody ever said that an Irish redhead looks good in green before. I believe some people think we all dress in green and have a shamrock tattooed somewhere.”  
  
  
“And do you?”  
  
  
“Do what?”  
  
  
“Have a shamrock on your skin. Can I see it?” Mandy grinned and started to jokingly unbuckle his pants.  
  
  
“Mandy what the fuck!” cried Ian, shoving her off while she laughed.  
  
  
He shook his head, buckling up again. “You know, I’m still mad at you since you refused to accompany me.” He pouted.  
  
  
“Yeah I know. I’m so very sorry. Next time I’ll be there with you. Pinkie promise.” Mandy proceeded to snatch Ian’s pinkie to seal the promise. “This is the first time I’m actually using the pinkie, you know? In the past, with my brothers it was all spit handshakes. Ew.”  
  
  
Ian smiled at the image of a little Mickey Milkovich, trying to appear tough and super manly with his older brothers. This while Mandy was mimicking the act of puking.  
  
  
Ian finished with his dressing up, opening his arms to show his girlfriend.  
  
  
“Is it okay, then?”  
  
  
She looked at him critically. Then started to ruffle his hair to her liking, nodding only when she was satisfied with his look.  
  
  
“Yeah. You look so good in that suit that I would kneel right here and blow you.” She snorted. “But it’s kind of a letdown that you like do to it too.”  
  
  
“True.” Ian scoffed.  
  
  
“Hey can’t you bring some of your other friends with you?” she asked, changing topics.  
  
  
“Don’t have that many friends and none of them are suited for it except you.” Commented Ian, looking once again at his mirror. Such a fucking peacock.  
  
  
“Aww now I feel bad for leaving you in the middle of these muscular men with such unattractive big broad shoulders.”  
  
  
“You should. For you.” He joked.  
  
  
Mandy shook her head. She had other plans. “Nah, I’ll pass for tonight. Gonna get me a sleepover. Really, I didn’t know that trying to make friends with nice girls was so hard.” She huffed, feigning an incredible tiredness for her efforts. Even so, Ian knew that she was really trying hard to be accepted by the other girls. Apparently it was a new experience for her. He hugged Mandy lightly, giving her a kiss on the temple.  
  
  
“I want details tomorrow. Need to know if you did the pillow fight thing.” Ian was almost serious. He truly couldn’t understand what girls do on a sleepover.  
  
  
She nodded “If you’ll give me details about your club soiree. Like, I don’t know, if you manage to bang someone.”  
  
  
At the moment, Ian didn’t have any interest on banging someone other than her brother and that would’ve been quite awkward to tell her about. So he just agreed by kissing her on the temple another time.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Ian had never experienced social anxiety. He had never felt shy attending uppity parties full of snobbish people. When the money had flooded in the Gallagher household and they had started getting invited to social events, Ian had always behaved like he owned the place. When he had started to frequent older, more experienced men, he’d learned how to fake interest even for the most tedious arguments. After bipolar had kicked in, his confidence had boosted up to the stars. Even after starting to be treated, he had never felt like a lesser human being surrounded by rich people.  
  
  
This occasion was different, though. The event at the club was the closest he had ever got to nobility. The rowing club had been founded a little less than 150 years ago. Many of its members came from old money families. Now, Ian was too a member, but he did not have any background. Not only was he a nouveau riche, his family’s wealth derived from a very lucky ticket.  
  
  
In short, Ian wasn’t feeling very confident at the moment. He gave a quick assessment of his clothes, before opening the door. He had bought a suit the day before just for the occasion. He was elegant as fuck and he hoped he would’ve been able to blend in as he always did. He so wanted to make a good impression. Some of the guys in there were part of the team Ian wished to stay on for all the four years. He couldn’t afford to screw it up.  
  
  
As soon as he was inside, all his fears disappeared. Mark was close to the door and he enveloped Ian in his characteristic bear hug.  
  
  
“Just in time, Ian! You’ll still get to see the old men before they get wasted.” Mark ushered Ian to the hall. The house had the features of a cabin, what with the wooden walls and the stone fireplaces, but it radiated wealth from its golden candelabras to the luxurious sofas. There were many pictures attached to the walls, some of them in black and white, showing men in old-fashioned swimsuits and an outdated boat behind them, others showing smiling rowers in full color. It didn’t take much to notice that each one of the pictures represented a year, starting from 1868 to the past year. Ian didn’t want to admit it, but he was pretty excited for this year’s photo. He was not in the main team yet, but he planned to be in it in the near future.  
  
  
In the hall, there were students and alumni, probably some of them were even related. During these events, it was easy to spot three generations belonging to the same family: grandfathers, fathers and sons. Well, and daughters too, but they were a minority. Ian had the feeling that he was the only one who had come alone. Well, certainly he couldn’t have invited Frank to such occasion (or any other occasion for that matter).  
  
  
“So Ian, what you wanna drink?” Mark asked, showing him around.  
  
  
“Show me what you got.” Ian was following him right behind. They arrived to the open bar, where Mark ordered for Ian.  
  
  
“Oh, Ian. This is my father, Don.” Mark presented a big man stopping in front of them with a warm smile. Like his son, he had a menacing look but they were truly two cinnamon rolls (gigantic cinnamon rolls).  
  
  
The old man patted Ian’s shoulder. “Nice to meet you, kid.” Okay, if Mark was big on bear hugs, his father was certainly fond of painful pats. God, what was with these two?  
  
  
Ian stayed with them until he noticed something that certainly succeeded in catching his interest: guess what, it was none other than Mickey Milkovich. He was taking his coat off, talking with a club’s member who was laughing at something Mickey had said.  
  
  
Immediately, Ian decided that he needed to greet the guy since he was in his team and all.  
  
  
“Hey, Lance,” Ian greeted the dirty blonde, who promptly smiled at him.  
  
  
“Oh hey. This your first time here, right?” he asked, receiving a nod from Ian. “First time I was embarrassed as hell since I was alone and everything, but they’re all nice, really.”  
  
  
Ian was glad to hear it, but his eyes kept stealing glances at Mickey, who was faking to mind his own business by grabbing a glass of something from the waiter.  
  
  
“Right, this is Mickey, my fraternity president-“  
  
  
“Hi Mickey, nice to see you again,” interrupted Ian, smiling at Mickey, who only nodded.  
  
  
“Gallagher.”  
  
  
The look on Lance’s face required an explanation. “Yeah I know him, I’m dating his sister,” Ian said. He only wanted to make it clear that he already knew the black-haired guy. Like it held some kind of importance. Plus, he guessed he’d given the right choice for an excuse for the fact that Mickey and he were not strangers to each other.  
  
  
“Mandy? She’s so nice, you should bring her more often to the house, Mickey…” Then he saw one of the girls on the team and whatever the fuck he wanted to add, was erased from his mind. “Yeah, that’s Claire. Wish me good luck.” And sprinted towards the girl without hearing back from the two guys.  
  
  
“Yeah, he’s kinda in love with the chick,” explained Mickey.  
  
  
Ian didn’t care about Lance. He was grateful he had left them alone. “Didn’t know you were the president there.” He tried to start a conversation.  
  
  
Mikey shrugged. “Yeah, from this year. Apparently it’s good on the resume, so… I don’t really have to do anything, though.”  
  
  
“Then, good for you?” It didn’t look like Mickey was going to keep on talking, even if he certainly seemed interested enough to let his eyes trail up and down Ian’s body. “So, uh, you like rowing?”  
  
  
“No.”  
  
  
“Why you here then?”  
  
  
“Lance whined for me to accompany him. And I needed to talk to a couple of old men here. For my dad. So all for the best.” Mickey started to scan the room, probably to see if he could spot the two men in question. Ian was having none of that. He wanted Mickey to keep looking at him like he was a fucking ice-cream on a hot summer.  
  
  
“You look good,” he commented. Because it was so true. This was the first time Ian saw Mickey completely clean, perfectly shaved and wearing something of good taste. The black suit really looked sexy on him. Mickey was sexy.  
  
  
What he got was Mickey’s eyes ravaging him again. “Yeah, you too Gallagher.” And, if his eyes were not enough, his damn tongue licked his lower lip. _Dammit, Mickey_.  
  
  
Ian was considering asking Mickey to go talk in a more intimate place, when Mickey was called out by someone in the room. He had to let him go.  
  
  
Not with his eyes, though. And Mickey’s seemed to do just the same. Both of them were engrossed in conversations with other people. Yet, their eyes always found each other’s. Or well, sometimes, Ian’s eyes found Mickey’s ass, but that’s behind the point.  
  
  
There were also brushings. When they passed close to each other, there were some light bumps, and an almost non-existent touch of a finger against one’s thigh.  
  
  
Ian’s eyes were mostly settled on spotting Mickey, that is why he didn’t notice one of the alumni right away. The fifty-year old man was looking at him with wide eyes. Fear tinged with a pinch of lust on his expression. Ian didn’t recognize him at first, but then it hit him. That man was one of the married guys he had fooled around with when he had been partying hard during his full on manic experience in New York.  
  
  
That was also the moment Mickey decided to approach Ian.  
  
  
“You know Zimmermann?” he asked, pointing at Ian’s old fling with his chin. Mickey was quietly sipping at his glass.  
  
  
“Didn’t know his name. I fucked him a few years ago.” Ian replied. His tone was normal, but Mickey almost choked on his drink. He had to cough several time before he spoke  
  
  
“The fuck, man? That old fart?”  
  
  
“I was high at that time,” Ian simply replied.  
  
  
Mickey snorted. “You really like ‘em way older.”  
  
  
“Think I’m over it now. Going for people my age, you know.”  
  
  
“You better or at this rate you’ll have to work at a nursing home to get your seasoned meat.” Ian jokingly shoved him off. “Anyway don't get with that old queen again. He’s like indebted over his head with Pops.”  
  
  
“Yeah don’t you worry. I wasn’t planning on banging him tonight.”  
  
  
“Who’s worried,” muttered Mickey. If Ian didn’t know any better, Mickey sounded slightly jealous.  
  
  
Oh, right.  
  
  
“Uh. Evan, you remember Evan, right? And his friend Stan, came to me a few days ago to ask me if you had beaten me up that night and if I’d told you that I had also fucked Stan. Cause, you know. You fag-bashed him, too.” Mickey stiffened. “I don’t remember ever telling you anything ‘bout him.”  
  
  
Mickey finished his drink in one gulp. “Nah. Wasn’t fag-bashing. He was just pissing me and my guys off.”  
  
  
“Really?” Ian cocked one eyebrow.  
  
  
“Really.”  
  
  
Ian decided to accept his explanation without further investigation. From the way Mickey was gripping at his glass, he seemed ready to bolt any time. Wanting to find a neutral topic, Ian pointed at the walls. “Have you seen the pictures? Especially the old sepia ones, I find them utterly interesting-“  
  
  
“Want to see more interesting stuff?” asked Mickey abruptly.  
  
  
“Uh, yeah?”  
  
  
Mickey nodded towards the stairs and Ian promptly followed. The dark-haired guy lead him to an expansive room filled with trophies and medals and pictures. Some of the trophies were on the shelves, others behind glass. Some big and important, others small but always worth of being exposed.  
  
  
“The trophy room,” Ian said in awe.  
  
  
“No shit, Sherlock.” Mickey went near a display case. “Wanna show you something.”  
  
  
Ian approached, leaning very close to Mickey. He smelled like cologne. It was the first time he smelled of something that was not shower procrastination or sweat and all Ian wanted was to bury his nose into his neck and breath the cologne as well as that inebriating smell that was just Mickey’s. He must have closed his eyes, because Mickey elbowed him on the abdomen. Surprisingly, rather gently.  
  
  
Ian opened his eyes, looking at the trophies and pictures on the display. At first he didn’t understand what Mickey wanted to show to him. That was until he noticed the nametags close to a picture with smiling men wearing medals around their necks. ‘Milkovich’. Precisely ‘Anthony T. Milkovich’ and ‘James K. Milkovich’. Two huge boys happily grinning for their victory.  
  
  
“Tony and Jamie. My two oldest brothers,” explained Mickey. “Big idiots. It was taken six years ago, when they won the last regatta of the year.”  
  
  
Ian was aware about what had happened to his brother Jamie, Mandy had told him. But like everyone else in her family, she had not gone into details. And Ian was certainly not going to ask Mickey about him.  
  
  
“Jamie OD’d the next summer, after graduation.”  
  
  
Ian knew that much. Mandy had also told him that she suspected it had been the result of Terry’s persistent pressures. “I’m sorry,” said Ian.  
  
  
“Nah.” Mickey shrugged. “I was twelve when he left for college and we never really got along, you know. Tony was destroyed, though. He actually stopped taking drugs after it. They loved party favors.”  
  
  
He noticed Mickey didn’t mention his father. Ian decided not to enquire about him. He had come to the understanding that Terry was a taboo argument by now.  
  
  
“And that’s my uncle Ronnie.” Mickey pointed to a trophy on one of the shelves. “And some of my cousins should be here as well.”  
  
  
“So why are you not on the team, again?”  
  
  
“Me?” Mickey arched his eyebrows. “I’m not the sporty type. I only exercise in my room and especially using my bed.  
  
  
“Oh yeah?” Ian asked, hoping Mickey didn't just mean he used the bed frame as a tool for his push-ups.  
  
  
“Mh, yeah.” Mickey pointed the corner of his mouth with the tongue. It was a clear sign he was getting aroused. “And then… I mean, rowing fits you best. You get a nice, muscular, broad back. Looks good.”  
  
  
“Thanks.” Then Ian leaned closer, his voice getting lower. “You know, I think we’ve established that you can exercise in other places other than your own room. A janitor’s closet is also good. Or a bathroom stall in a dirty pub. A tree, also… A trophy room?”  
  
  
Mickey’s breath hitched slightly, looking at Ian straight in his eyes. Why his eyes had to be so much brighter than the trophies? It sounded so corny but it was true, at least for the redhead. “Never exercised in a trophy room.”  
  
  
“Wanna try?”  
  
  
“If there’s a lock on the door,” Mickey replied. As soon as Ian locked the door, he heard the soft sound of pants hitting the floor.  
  
  
Mickey wasn’t wasting his time and he quickly discarded all of his clothes. Noticing the surprise on Ian’s look, he only shrugged. “Can’t get the clothes dirty. Hurry the fuck up.”  
  
  
Ian proceeded to undress at a fast pace, but apparently it was not enough for Mickey. Ian was still wearing his shirt and socks when Mickey approached him and helped to unbutton the shirt. “C’mon Risky Business, you’re so fucking slow.”  
  
  
Ian grinned, letting Mickey finishing taking off all of his clothes. His hands went to cup Mickey’s balls instead. “Yeah, I know you like it fast.” He leaned down to bite the shorter guy’s earlobe and Mickey surprisingly let him. Probably he was more focused on the feeling of Ian’s hand palming his crotch.  
  
  
Mickey moaned. “And good, and hard.” He went to reciprocate Ian’s gesture, starting to stroke Ian’s growing erection. “Gonna give it to me like that?”  
  
  
“As much as you want,” groaned Ian. Their faces were so close it was a matter of inches to kiss. Ian’s eyes were fixed on Mickey’s lips. That until Mickey went down on his knees. He pressed one hand against Ian’s thigh and resumed the stroking with the other. Ian was rock hard by then.  
  
  
“God, your cock,” Mickey commented, eyes staring at Ian’s penis. Ian had to bite his tongue to prevent it from let the words “Not God’s, Ian’s” out. He wanted to fuck, not get jabbed in the groin. Really, why did he possess such a lame sense of humor?  
  
  
“Mn… use your mouth to suck instead of talking,” replied instead. It was the right response, because Mickey didn’t castrate him, but went down on him, taking his cock into his mouth. Mickey was definitely a pro in blowjobs. He knew how to tease, how to make Ian whither with a twist of his tongue. Ian was in serious need of a wall to lean on, because his knees were about to give up. “Fuck. Fuck, Mickey. Just… That’s enough. Stand up.”  
  
  
Mickey looked up, meeting Ian’s eyes. He pulled out so very slowly, ending with a lewd 'pop'. He licked a drop of precome, sliding his tongue from the base to the tip of his shaft. Then he closed his mouth, letting Ian hear the sound of Mickey gulping down his precome.  
  
  
“Fuck, Mickey…” Ian murmured, never taking his eyes off Mickey’s. The shorter guy smirked and stood up. He looked around to find a place to lean on with his hands but the walls were all full of displays and shelves. Mickey decided to grab one of the latter then.  
  
  
The sight of Mickey spreading his legs was always a vision for Ian. That’s why Mickey once again had the duty of shaking him from his staring. “Get my fucking wallet, will ya?”  
  
  
Ian dashed to retrieve the wallet and opened it, pulling out a sachet of lube and a condom. A condom Ian’s size. Ian didn’t know whether to presume Mickey put a Magnum in his wallet because of Ian or just because he was a fucking size queen in general. Ian was inclined to consider the former; first because Ian really wanted to think that, secondly Mickey seemed to know Ian was a member of the rowing club… Wait.  
  
  
_Mickey came here for me?_  
  
  
Ian was quick to dissipate the dangerous thought from his mind and slicked his fingers with lube. He entered with one finger and Mickey immediately relaxed for him. He pushed another finger inside, then a third. Fuck. He loved that tightness. That warmth. While he was inside with his fingers, Mickey was already rocking back to meet him halfway.  
  
  
“Mn… Firecrotch, just get in me,” groaned Mickey.  
  
  
“Please.”  
  
  
Mickey stilled for a second, his breath caught. Then turned his head. “Pretty please with a cherry on top. Now get on with it,” he said with a smirk.  
  
  
Ian pulled out his fingers, rolling his condom on. He used the lube to slick himself up. “You know, you actually sounded adorable saying that shit.”  
  
  
“Fuck off.”  
  
  
“Thought you wanted me to fuck you,” Ian replied. He grabbed Mickey’s ass. Hands spreading his ass cheeks. He could spend hours only squeezing that plump butt. Ian guided his erection to press against Mickey’s hole, but not entering it.  
  
  
Mickey rocked his ass back to meet Ian’s tip. “Oh, c’mon man!” Still, Ian was not entering him. “Yes! Fuck! I want you to fuck me, please!” he whimpered.  
  
  
Having gotten what he wanted, Ian pushed inside in one go, taking his time once he bottomed out. Ian had been dying to just fuck him, but it was so worth it to make Mickey beg. Mickey clenched his ass to get Ian to move. And Ian did. Fast, good and hard, just like Mickey preferred it.  
  
  
“Fuck. Fuck… Yes! Right there, mhn…” Mickey met every thrust in earnest and Ian was on fucking cloud nine. The trophies tottering hard on the shelves as a consequence of their movements.  
  
  
“Mickey… So good. So tight for me.” Ian grabbed him forcefully by his hips. He knew Mickey liked it and Ian loved it too. He loved to see his handwork made of bruises on those hips. He wanted to mark Mickey all over his body. With that pale skin, the stark contrast of a hickey had to be so evident. Ian’s thoughts went so much in that one direction that when he pressed against Mickey’s back, he bit the juncture between the neck and the shoulder. Mickey let out a gasp, which became a moan when Ian started to lick and suck on the mark and then softly kissed it. His ass clenched and he let Ian take control of his neck, while he was occupied jerking himself off.  
  
  
“Gonna come…” Mickey warned, the stroking more frenetic.  
  
  
Ian was nipping at his nape, slamming erratically into his ass. “Yeah… me too.”  
  
  
It just took another bite from Ian for Mickey to get off, spluttering against a framed picture dated 1901. Ian followed right behind, coming into the condom. They rested for a while there, Mickey not complaining about Ian’s dead weight on his back. When Ian pulled out, Mickey turned around to lean against the shelves. It was clearly uncomfortable but good to keep himself steady. Ian did exactly the same.    
  
  
“Wow…” Ian muttered.  
  
  
Mickey agreed. “Yeah…” he looked like a satisfied cat, all soft and loose. It was a real pity to watch him get dressed. Ian guessed it was time to put on some clothes too.  
  
  
***  
  
  
When the soiree ended, Ian went to his apartment at peace with the world. Mickey had left practically after they had fucked. With at least three hickeys. At that point Ian was all happy and shit and he had truly been charming and amiable with all the guests through the rest of the night.  
  
  
Alan was on the sofa when Ian opened the door. As soon as Ian made the gesture of opening his mouth, Alan got up.  
  
  
“Don’t even try it.”  
  
  
“W-What?”  
  
  
“That’s an ‘I want to talk about Mickey' expression. No way, Ian. My ears bled enough already. Not gonna put them through your Mickey ramblings again.”  
  
  
With that, Alan turned off the tv, grabbed his water bottle, and speed up to his door, slamming it behind him.  
  
  
He opened it once again to wish a “Good night” to a dumbfounded Ian. He closed it soon after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much QueenThrusday!! <3


	11. Of Kings and Vipers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian has everything under control, don't you worry.

“See, Mands? That’s what good friends do. They accompany each other to parties,” said Ian. The couple was arm in arm walking towards a party hosted by Mickey’s fraternity.

Mandy snorted. “Didn’t ask you to, you invited yourself.”

The redhead put on an almost scandalized face. “And let you go back to the dorm all alone in the middle of the night? Nah.”

“Yeah, sure. Truth is you’re coming with me only to see my dumbass of a brother,” said Mandy with a knowing smile.

This time Ian’s face abandoned all the scandalized pretense and looked visibly shocked and scared.  “What?” He had to put much effort only to exhale that single word and not choke on it.

“You thought you could fool me? I saw you two together,” she accused.

_ Oh, fuck. _

If Mandy wasn’t gonna kill him, Mickey was. If Mandy didn’t kill her brother first. “Mands, it’s not what you think…” started Ian.

Mandy gave him a punch to the chest. “It’s not? I saw you two all buddy-buddy sharing a cigarette. Ian, don’t tell me you’ve joined the Mickey’s fan club! I thought better of you!”

“…What?” This time the word came so very natural. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“Sharing a cigarette, laughing at one of his stupid jokes…” Mandy put on one of her best pouts ever. “You’re _ my _ boyfriend. Not Mickey’s pawn.”

That was all? Ian started to laugh, giving Mandy a big kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry, girlfriend. Your jokes make me laugh more.”

She smiled, releasing her arm from his, to wrap it around his waist instead. “You bet.”

Reaching the house, Ian wasn’t sure if he was relieved by Mandy’s obliviousness or a little disappointed by it. Was it so wrong desiring to share the secret with his best friend? Ian wanted to tell her everything about Mickey and him. But then, was there really a Mickey _ and _ him? Maybe it was just stupid and suicidal to tell Mandy something that was not as important as he thought. Especially with the not so subtle threat of Mickey killing him if he did.

So Ian just settled on keeping his mouth shut and enter the house with Mandy.

Even though the party had just started, some girls were already wasted and dancing on a table. Mandy spotted Mickey right away. He was smoking a blunt surrounded by other frat bros. She went straight to him and snatched the blunt from his fingers.

“Hey, assface,” she greeted, taking a drag.  

Mickey snatched the blunt right back. That’s when he noticed Ian and nodded towards him.

“What’s he doing in here?”

“He’s my boyfriend. He comes with me wherever I want.” Mandy replied. She made a gesture to take the blunt again, but Mickey gave it to Ian, who went to sit on the coffee table in front of the couch the siblings were slouched on. Instinctively, Ian grabbed it, bringing it to his lips.

Mandy huffed. “You better not become best friends. I need Ian’s support when I’m bitching about you.” She took the blunt from Ian’s fingers and dashed to the kitchen to prevent Ian or Mickey from get it back.

Mickey just scoffed, lighting up another blunt. “Here,” he offered, after taking the first drag. Ian wasn’t sure it was okay to smoke weed more than once in his situation, but he figured it wasn’t that big of a deal. These days he was feeling rather good, taking a break from worrying for one day wasn’t gonna kill him. He had even messed up his meds schedule a little and skipped taking them once or twice, but no dire consequences so far.

The dark haired guy seemed relaxed in Ian’s company. A mixture of alcohol and drugs probably induced the chill, but Ian was not complaining. They were sort of going out these days. If hanging out at a bar or walking together while smoking could be considered as dates. Right there, though, Mickey didn’t seem to care if Ian stared for too long at that little gap between the hem of his blue shirt and the waistband of his jeans. He actually seemed to be enjoying it, if his tongue pointing at the corner of his mouth was any hint.

They were just finishing their blunt in comfortable silence but heated glances, when two of Mickey’s minions jumped to sit on either side of Mickey.

“Hey Mick, where’s your deck?” they asked.

Mickey arched an eyebrow. “Wanna play poker?”

They shook their heads. “No, California Kings.”

“Then you’re not getting my deck. Lucky’s just for poker,” answered Mickey calmly. “Get one from Franklin or Gates.”

The two guys nodded, getting up to look for the other frat boys, when Mickey called them back. Their faces turning to Mickey immediately.  

“Count me in,” he said. He looked at Ian with an arched eyebrow. “You too, Gallagher?”

Ian thought about if for half a second before nodding. “Yeah, why not.”

After taking possession of someone else’s deck, Mickey, Ian, and three other guys were at the table with a large cup in the middle of it and several red smaller plastic cups and different kinds of bottles. A moment later, Mandy took a seat right next to her ginger boyfriend.

"Well, why wasn't I invited?" she spat, placing more small cups in front of her. "You need a girl here or this is going to be a sausage fest."

Mickey snorted "Thanks for your lesson in etiquette, Martha Stewart."

She only shrugged. When one of the guys started shuffling the cards, she leaned close to Ian. "You sure you wanna play? Gotta drink here, you know."

Ian gave her a little shoulder bump, nodding. "Yeah, I have it under control, don't you worry. Drinking more than usual once in a fucking while is not the end of the world."

Mandy didn't look so persuaded, but she nodded in return. She handed him the cards. “Let's play, then.”

  
  


***

"Well, it's time for the boys to drink," Mandy said, placing a Jack of Hearts on the wet, sticky table. The five guys playing groaned but they all raised their cups and gulped their contents.

All of the players knew the game, but Ian knew a slightly different version  and so they had to explain it to him. It was actually a simple game when everybody knew the same rules. Everybody had to bring to the table one or more alcoholic beverage of their choices. Every card they extracted from the deck would mean something in term of drinking. For example, if he or she picked an 8 they became the Thumb Master, they would put their thumb on the table and the last one to do so would have to drink.  An Ace would mean celebrating a toast drinking all together. The King cards were different because for the first three Kings no one would have to drink, but only pour their drink in the big cup. The last King, however, meant drinking all the content of the big cup, whatever alcoholic mix in there.

They were in the middle of the game and two Kings were already out. The big cup had already been filled with vodka and tequila. Nobody really wanted to chug the King's cup down. Ian, however, was feeling so good. Really, it was like going to a buffet after a strenuous diet: total relief and gluttony. There was a nice buzz going through his body and his head was light and only full of the funniest things. Probably the blunt they were passing around helped with that. When Ian drew a 7 of Spades, he declared Waterfall and everybody started to swallow the liquid in their cups without stopping. That, until Ian almost choked on his drink and the others slowly stopped to drink.

The next one to draw a card was Mickey, who placed the third King on the pile of the already used cards. He poured his beer in the cup, making the alcoholic mix even worse than before. Mickey was a total heavyweight and he still looked in control of his movements. Or perhaps he was one of those people who looked totally cool one moment and passed out the other.

It goes without saying that when there were only three cards left to draw, they were all much more than tipsy. One of the guys was out, snorting on his chair. The one on Mandy's left side was looking at the King's cup with fear: it was his turn to pick one of the few remaining cards and the odds were not in his favor.  

Yet it was Mandy who drew the last King card. The guy next to her started to laugh in relief, until the girl kicked his chair and he fell down on his face. Ian patted her back, smiling. “C'mon, Mands, you can do this!” he encouraged her.

Mandy didn't look as sure as Ian did, but she took the cup with both of her hands and, after a sigh, she started to swallow the whole content. She choked on it twice, but she managed to drink all of it.

She put the cup down,  burped, then she got up from the chair. “I think I need to go to the bathroom,” she said, before collapsing on the floor with a thud.

Ian and Mickey immediately jumped on their feet. They both rush to help her. After ascertaining that Mandy was fine, just passed out, they looked at each other and nodded. Maybe it was telepathy, maybe it was just common sense, but they had thought the same thing. Ian took her shoulders, Mickey grabbed her legs and they managed to get her up to lay her on her brother's bed.

“I'll go get the bucket!” Ian exclaimed, rushing out of the room.

He came back five seconds later, confused.

“Do we have a bucket?” he asked.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Stay here,” he said, before going to the bathroom and returning with a fucking bucket, which he placed next to his bed.

“Look, Mick. She almost seems like an angel,” Ian commented, his eyes on Mandy.

Mickey too had his eyes on his sister, but all he could see was a drunk, passed out girl laying on her side, her shirt soaked from the content of the King's cup she couldn't swallow. Snoring like usual. “Yeah, sure, an angel through and through,” remarked with a snort.

They both started to laugh.

Ian let not even a minute pass before smiling at Mickey. “So, what are we gonna do now?”

Mickey arched an eyebrow. “Pass out as well?”

Ian could feel Mickey relaxing. Like, once in his room, Mickey could let go of every control he had to shield himself with and stop pretending. Pretending what, Ian was not sure that even Mickey himself knew. Mickey's aura seemed to convey the message it was time to leave him alone.

But Ian was having none of that. He wanted to spend some quality time alone with Mickey, just being who they were. They were both drunk and high and Ian thought there was no reason why they shouldn't have some fun together.

“Already? I was thinking about a ride,” proposed Ian.

“A what?”

“Yeah, a ride. You promised me one the other day, remember? You were like bragging about how cool your car is and you told me you were gonna take me for a ride.” Ian laughed to himself “Still don't know if you meant car sex or driving but I'm up for both.”

Mickey shoved him a little, but he was amused. “You always so perky when hammered?” he asked.

“I'm a naturally perky person,” Ian replied with a shrug. “So. Key?”

“Yeah, yeah, key...” Mickey looked around with foggy eyes before patting his back pocket. “Got it.”

 

***

 

They were at the parking lot behind the house in a matter of seconds. Or at least, that was how long it felt like they had been walking. Truth was, they had wobbled through the whole way to the car. Mickey had even let Ian touch him in ways that were forbidden in public. Like slowly caressing his neck or coming so close to Mickey they could smell each other’s scent and feel hotter than usual on such a chilly night.

Mickey's sportscar was there in all its beauty. It was a 2015 Dodge Viper, all black and inviting. Mickey had gotten it for his birthday last year and he had loved it ever since. It was fast and sinuous and he hadn't let many people inside his motorized baby. It was so shiny under the moonlight that Ian thought that Mickey probably washed his car more than himself.

Mickey unlocked the Viper. “Driver or passenger seat?” he asked Ian.

He hadn't even had to ask, because Ian jumped on the driver seat, sinking into it with ease. Mickey huffed and took the other seat.

Ian thought that Mickey looked so fucking good in that car. The paleness of his skin a stark contrast with the black and red of the interior. Ian had to look just as hot, because Mickey was glancing at him and pushing his damn tongue against the corner of his even more damned mouth.

_ Fucking mouth… _

Ian's whole attention was addressed at Mickey's lips, deep pink and wet. He wanted to taste them so badly. He had tried the first time they had fucked, but all he had got out of it was a threat involving the excruciating pain of a tongue removal. After that, Ian hadn't had any more opportunities to kiss him because their sex positions had never let their faces to get closer together. His greatest achievement had been kissing Mickey behind his ear, and only a small peck.

Yet, the way Mickey was looking at him… Maybe it was the moonlight, but the atmosphere between them seemed almost romantic. Ian would’ve sworn that Mickey's eyes were also set on his lips. Ian leaned closer, so close his nostrils were provided a mixture of Mickey's scent and the unmistakable smell of leather from their seats. The redhead placed a hand against Mickey's headrest to gain balance. He also gave the other guy a chance to back off. But Mickey did not. He bit his bottom lip if nothing else. The black-haired guy didn't know were to rest his eyes. They would linger on Ian's own, or his lips or somewhere else entirely. They were full of fear and want. Ian just wanted to make them shut and enjoy the kiss he so longed to give Mickey. He felt Mickey's breath mingle with his own, sign that he was so close he could finally brush his lips against Mickey's.

_ Mickey... _

Unfortunately the kiss didn't happen. Mickey turned his head at the last second and all Ian got to put his lips on was the palm of Mickey’s hand. The black-haired guy backed off. A look of guilt on his face under Ian's accusing stare.

Mickey couldn't do it. That much was clear. Ian wondered if he would've ever been able to accept it in the future. Or if Mickey would've dumped his ass before coming to that situation.

Ian leaned back, resting against his seat. Then he locked the seat belt.

“Let's go then,” he said. He didn't want to get bitter over the kiss. He was having too much fun to ruin that night by holding a grudge.

“Huh?” Mickey turned back his head to look at Ian. “Go where?”

“The ride? Remember?” Ian asked, grabbing the wheel. He so needed to take his mind off Mickey's refusal. What better solution than driving a fast car?

Mickey shook his head, holding onto his key. “Yeah. Not gonna happen. You're too drunk to drive and so am I.”

“So what? Am I just supposed to move the steering wheel like a child?” The redhead snatched the key from Mickey's grasp with an unusual speed for a hammered person. He shoved off the other guy who tried to take it back and inserted it into the ignition, causing the car to start with a roar.

“Whoa!” exclaimed Ian, all excited for the powerful sound of the engine. “This is gonna be so good...”

“Gallagher, c'mon.” Mickey began pleading, moving a hand towards the inserted key. But Ian slapped away his hand and heavily pressed the gas pedal. The Viper immediately reacted. “Ian...”

Had Ian been listening, the sound of that word alone would've put a big smile on his face. But Ian had invested all his attention to the car. Especially, its horse power.

“Just enjoy the ride, Mick! Don't be so grumpy all the fucking time!” he exclaimed, pushing the gas pedal further. The car was happily rumbling under his guidance, getting faster and faster by the second. Ian could feel pure energy slip into his skin, like electricity running through his body, giving him  goosebumps. The adrenaline was kicking in, and Ian couldn't have been more excited.

It was not the speed of light, but Ian wanted to get close to it. He wanted to test the power engine, see how fast the car could go. He was only slightly aware of Mickey's words being pronounced in the car. The tone of voice suggested they were trying to tell him to calm down, but he was having none of that. He didn't need to calm the fuck down. He was free. He had everything under control, he wasn't that drunk to begin with, anyway. He was fine.

_ Faster faster faster _

He could go even faster. He was driving the Viper so well. He almost felt sorry for her, with a master who would not take her for fast rides. But Ian was freeing her as well. Limits were stupid.  _ Oh, an avenue _ . The street was large and empty, he could totally take the car at her maximum speed. He and the car were almost the same thing now. His buzzing energy was her buzzing energy. His freedom her freedom. The Viper was roaring under his feet and fuck if this was not one of the best feelings ever. Plus, Mickey was there with him, next to him; he was accompanying him in this big, thrilling adventure and Ian couldn’t ask for more. No wait, he could. He could just press the gas pedal further. Go at such a speed all the worries he had ever had would simply back off and surrender. He was the king now, on this road, nothing behind and hope in front of him. It was right. It was damn fucking right. It was-

“IAN! WATCH OUT!”

_ Huh? _

Ian finally focused on two lights coming straight towards them. He could hear the sounds of friction, screeching tires. Of a voice in his head that was telling him to keep on going, because  he  was the king of the road. The other car was halting, his was still roaring. They could just go, go.  _ Go _ . 

“IAN!”

Mickey’s voice brought him back to the reality of the moment. The two lights were so close to them. The Viper was so fast.

Ian hastily turned the wheel right.

The car followed his movement. But then it stopped following Ian’s orders. He was not her master anymore, he was not worthy. Ian hit the brake with his foot, but the car mercilessly proceeded.

She went straight against a metallic fence.

She didn’t care for it. Nor for the screaming of the two boys inside of her cage. 

She just kept on going.

Until she crashed into a tree.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't know the game and you want more information: http://www.drinksmixer.com/games/17/  
> I tried it once with slightly different rules from the ones described on the site and...ew, no thanks. I don't think I'll try it ever again :(
> 
> And thank you QueenThursday for the editing and pink_ink for her approval. Love you both!


	12. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was at the wheel. You understand?"

The loud sounds of the crashing and the screaming were followed by silence. Maybe Ian couldn't hear anything because after such a deafening noise other sounds always seemed dull in comparison. Like when Ian would go clubbing every night in NYC, he'd come back home wasted and nearly deaf. Just a constant ringing noise that excluded any others, deeply placed in his ears. The same annoying noise he was hearing right now. When he opened his eyes, at first Ian thought he had gone blind because all he could see around him was white, but the pungent smell of gun powder in his nostrils and the silkiness that he was feeling engulfing his face, suggested otherwise.

"Ian. Hey, are you okay?"

Mickey's voice fell through the buzzing and Ian turned his attention to the dark-haired guy.

"What? Yeah, yeah... Fuck this shit!"

Ian punched his bloated airbag, not deflating it in the slightest. He sighed, resting his head against it.

"You? Fine?"

Mickey nodded, managing to unbuckle his seatbelt with some difficulty due to the inflated white balloon. Through the still intact windshield they could see the hood of the car smashed against the trunk. Almost as if the Viper wanted to hug the tree tight. It appeared pretty clear that the car was not going to take Mickey for a ride any time soon.

From behind, the two lights from before were approaching. They heard a car pulling over and a voice shouting in their direction.

"Hey! You alright in there?"

The owner of the car that had caused Ian to jerk the wheel so abruptly, opened his car door.

"All that fucker's fault!" cried Ian in a whisper, angrily.

"Yeah, sure. _ His _ fault. Just thank the fence, instead. I'm kinda glad I'm still alive."

The chain-link fence had certainly helped to dampen the intensity of the speed, saving them from a deadly crash. Instead, they were safe and sound. Ian was feeling only a slight pain on one of his biceps. He'd have a bruise in the morning, nothing more.

"We're fine!" shouted Mickey, hearing the man coming closer.

"I called an ambulance!" replied the man with the same loud tone of voice.

"But there's no need..." Ian was saying, when he remembered. "The police could come too?"

Mickey nodded, looking fairly pissed off. Whether it was because of the police, the ambulance, the drunk driving, or simply the fact that Ian had just ruined his beloved car, Ian didn't know. 

He then proceeded to add some fuel to the fire. "I don't even have a drivers license."

Mickey grunted, looking at Ian in a way the redhead couldn't decipher.  "I guess it's okay if you don't have it on you. Drunk driving is already enough."

"Huh. No." At Mickey arched eyebrow, Ian had to admit the truth. "I don't have a driver license. Like, I never had it."

"WHAT?" Mickey's face was pure disbelief. "What the fuck, Gallagher!"

"I've never had the chance before..." Ian tried to say. Mickey covered his eyes with the palm of his hands, barely shaking his head. After a moment of silence, Mickey spoke.

"Okay, we need to switch places," said Mickey, uncovering his face. His voice appeared determined, as if he had made up his mind over an internal dispute.

"Wha-" Ian began to say, before Mickey unbuckled the redhead's seatbelt and grabbed him by the shirt. In a fairly awkward movement due to the airbags still being inflated, Mickey managed to throw Ian on the passenger seat and find himself in the driver's. They probably hurt themselves more during the place exchange than from the crash.

"Mickey-" Ian was interrupted again by the other guy, who grabbed Ian by his neck, pulling him closer. Mickey's eyes were menacing now, that much Ian could understand.

" _ I _ was at the wheel. You understand?"

Ian couldn't even reply this time, now that the other driver knocked against Mickey's side of the car.

"The ambulance should be here anytime now!"

Ian looked at the guy. He seemed like a good person, certainly more concerned about their safety than they were. Mickey only nodded, while Ian managed to whisper a "Thank you".

 

***

 

The paramedics arrived soon after. From the way they automatically reacted it appeared that assisting drunk college boys having an incident was nothing out of the ordinary. Ian and Mickey appeared to be fine, but the paramedics told them to get checked at a hospital if they felt any symptoms of a concussion in the next days.

The exchange between paramedics and police didn't take that much time. As soon as the two boys were declared without any evident injuries, two policemen took over. They had talked with the other driver while Ian and Mickey had been seen to by the paramedics, taking his statement.

Officer Brady and officer Grant wanted to have their statements as well. Ian didn't know what to say to them, after Mickey's words from before. Actually, he was supposed to tell the officers that he was just an innocent passenger. But Ian didn't want Mickey to take the blame for something he did not do. Their alcohol levels had already been tested and even though the crash didn't cause any damages but their own, the police would never let them go with a pat on their back. It was also true that drunk driving without a driver license was even worse, but...

"Sorry officer, I took my friend here for a ride, but I guess I was too drunk to see straight," Mickey said, before Ian could make up his mind and confess it was _ his _ fault.

The officer couldn't care less whose fault it was and they scribbled something down while nodding. Ian, by comparison, was almost paralyzed. Should he really just stand there and let Mickey take the blame? A glance from Mickey silently told him that yes, he should.

They kept their words to themselves during the ride to the police station. While they were made to wait on a bench, Ian was fidgeting. On the other hand, Mickey appeared calm and relaxed. He took his phone and called someone, telling them where he was and that he had had a car accident while drunk. He didn't indulge further in the phone call and pocketed his phone right away.

"Who was that?" Ian asked.

Mickey shrugged. "Help. Don't worry about it."

_ Don't worry about it _ . Like it was easy. Ian had been arrested before, for little stuff, like public indecency. But they went on record nonetheless. He just needed drunk driving without driving license to add to the list. But then, Mickey had told him he was taking the blame...

Ian was shaken out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. Mickey's.

Mickey was standing in front of him. When he was sure he had gotten Ian's attention, he nodded towards two men in suits who were coming closer.

Ian looked at Mickey with a confused expression.

"The help," informed the black-haired guy. "I need to go talk to them."

Having that said, Mickey left Ian still seated on the wooden bench. Ian saw him talking with the 'help'. One was a nicely bearded man on his fifties, with an air of importance around him; the other was much younger, probably just a little bit older than Mickey. He also sported the same blue eyes. He was standing there with a briefcase in each of his hands, nodding sometimes. Mickey was mostly holding the conversation with the older man, pointing with his head to Ian a few times. The bearded man exchanged words with his companion and the other went straight to talk to an officer.

Ian wanted to do something, not just sit there like an idiot. Only, when he made a move to stand up, Mickey found his eyes and shook his head. Ian sat down properly again, but really, he was annoyed as fuck. He could just hope that Mickey knew what he was doing.

Not even five minutes passed before an officer stopped in front of Ian.

"Well, you're free to go," he said, hooking his fingers in the loops of his dark blue pants.

Ian looked bewildered. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. I don't see anyone else in front of me, do I?"

Ian decided not to reply back and instead he looked in Mickey's direction, who curled his finger as a sign for Ian to get closer. Ian could finally stand up for real and went straight to hear what the other guy had to say.

"I called you a taxi," Mickey said.

"Why?" was Ian first response.

"Usually cabs are used to take someone to another place," Mickey replied. His tone so serious it almost looked as if Mickey really thought Ian was that stupid. After what had happened that night, Ian didn't want to start a discussion about that topic.

"You comin' with?"

"Can't," Mickey said. He then nodded towards the hall. "Stayin' here for a little while longer. I'm gonna come back in the morning, I hope. In the meantime I need you to go back to Mandy. She can't stay alone in her condition. Just go check on her, alright?"

Ian nodded. He had sobered up pretty well by now and he felt like shit for leaving his best friend alone and...

"I-I'm sorry for-" _ the car. For everything, actually . _

Before Ian could complete his apology, Mickey stopped him with a glare.

"Nothing to be sorry about," he said, looking at the bearded man close enough to them to listen to what they were saying. Mickey looked at his phone. "Cab's outside. If Mandy vomits on my bed you gotta clean."

Left with nothing else to say, Mickey turned again to the older man and waved Ian goodbye with a jerk of his hand.

 

***

 

Ian woke up in a foreign place. He had a headache and overall he felt like shit, what with his stinky breath and pain all over his arm, probably the bruise he had been expecting. He also felt wet on his back and that was totally unexpected. Until he heard some heavy snoring from behind him.

Mandy.

She had drooled all over him, so it was no wonder the back of his shirt was now soaked in spit. Ian groaned and turned around to look at his sleepy girlfriend. At the moment she wasn't exactly a beauty: drool and messy hair and her skin smelled the typical scent of someone who got really drunk the night before. Plus, she had woken up when Ian had entered the room and she had proceeded to greet him by throwing up everything she had in her. Ian had gotten to Mandy before she could make a total mess of her hair. He had then flushed down the toilet the contents of the bucket and put it back close to Mandy, in case she needed it again. Result: the bedroom smelled like vomit and alcohol. Not that it was the first time he had woken up in a similar situation.

Ian got up and rubbed his eyes. The first constructive thing he did was to open the window. It was very cold, but at least the air in the room would clear out the smell a little. Mandy's reaction was only to curl herself up more under the cover and  continue on sleeping. The redhead took the bucket and went to the bathroom to wash it out. It was 7:30 and no sign of Mickey yet. Ian hoped he was fine. He wanted to talk to him as soon as possible. Last night ended rather abruptly and he needed to know that things were fine between them.

Coming back from the bathroom, he nudged Mandy on her shoulder.

"Hey, Mands," he called her.

Mandy murmured something, trying to bury herself more deeply under the cover.

"Mandyyy..." Ian shoved her shoulder with a little more force. Mandy opened her eyes just a little bit, enough to glare at Ian through foggy eyes.

"What." It was not even a question, just the first word she had come up with.

"Just in case you don't remember. You got wasted yesterday and you slept in Mickey's room." Ian bit his bottom lip before adding. "Oh, by the way, Mickey and I had a car accident last night. Think Mickey's still at the police station and it's kinda my fault. So, yeah. Need to go now, bye."

Ian blurted the last sentences in a matter of a few seconds, before he sprang to the door to open it and close it behind him at the speed of light. This time, Mandy's 'WHAT' exploded and Ian could hear it loud and clear while climbing down the stairs.

 

***

 

All bundled up in his coat, Ian walked towards his apartment. It was a Sunday chilly morning, cold, but the sky was cloudless and the sun was gently touching his face. It was definitely a good day. He liked it. It was the perfect moment to go for a run.

Running was good. Running was healthy. It was possible to just switch off his damn brain and let his feet lead him down a path he knew by heart by now. Ian would sweat off all the alcohol in his system and by the end of the exercise his mind would be clear and free to help him decide how to act with Mickey the next time he'd see the guy. What do you say to the person whose car you destroyed? Who, on top of that, saved your ass?

Yeah, jogging was the answer.

Ian opened the door. He didn't hear any sounds come from the living room, nor Alan's room. His roommate was probably still asleep or lazily reading a book in bed. He wasn't exactly a morning person.

Before brushing his teeth or changing into his sportswear, Ian needed to eat something. He had several high carbs bars stocked in his kitchen cabinet and he thought about eating one and easily burn all the calories during the run.

He went to open the cabinet but he stopped abruptly looking at the state the kitchen was in. Just one world could describe it: messy. It was a fucking mess. There weren't empty bottles trashed everywhere or tomato sauce splattered on the burners. The problem was the order. There was no logic in how Alan and he himself had organized the kitchen supplies and the various food packages. It was all so wrong.

Perhaps Ian could arrange them a little before going for his run. Just a bit.

Ian took off his shoes and started taking the cereal boxes out of the cupboard, the plates, the cutlery, several cans full of soup. It was all messy and Ian noticed traces of dust on some of the higher shelves. Maybe the reorganizing would take a little bit longer than predicted.

 

***

 

Alan woke up to the sound of ceramic crashing on the floor. It was Sunday morning. Sunday mornings were made for sleeping till late. Sunday mornings were dedicated to the God of laziness and procrastination. Sunday mornings were Alan's best time of the week and he could make an exception only during the weeks prior the finals. Not in fucking February because some pottery got smashed in the kitchen.

He opened his bloodshot eyes. He hadn't even gotten wasted the previous night, just played on the computer for far too long in the wee hours. He massaged his eyelids, grumbling some curses. He let out a wide yawn when he entered the living room/open kitchen, ready to start a fight with Ian and his noisy behavior. If he had broken his favorite mug, Ian was gonna pay.

The scene he found himself staring at, however, caused Alan to immediately lose his mild anger as shock replaced it instead.

"Ian?"

Alan had never seen Ian like that before. The redhead was surrounded by boxes, cutlery, jars, plates, and all the things one could find in a kitchen. Alan didn't even know they had so many things in their small kitchen. Ian had his laptop on his crossed legs and was looking rather absorbed at whatever he had on the screen. He took notice of his roommate standing not that far from him, however, and looked up to greet him.

"Oh, Hey!" Ian smiled and turned to his laptop. Then, as if he had an intuition, he showed Alan what he was looking at on the screen.

"You think we should get it?" he asked, scrolling down to let him see the object and all its characteristics. Alan looked at it before frowning.

"We don't need another cupboard, Ian," Alan replied, looking at a black cupboard too big to even fit in there.

"We'll need it after the stuff I ordered arrives," said Ian, opening new tabs to look at other cupboards on the site.

"What stuff?" Alan was almost scared to ask. It was the first time Ian behaved like that, all focused on buying useless junk online, surrounded by just as much junk. Something was ringing a bell in his head.

Ian shrugged. "Oh, you know. We needed groceries anyways and new boxes. And new plates, sorry, I broke one of yours -right, pay attention to the pieces on the counter-, but don't you worry, I bought even better china. But we need to organize more. I was about to go for a run earlier, but the mess here kinda stopped me. So yeah, maybe a cupboard is what we should get." He pointed with his index finger to another cupboard model. "This one maybe? I think it's just perfect."

"Ian..." started Alan, only to stop right after. He didn't know how to tackle the argument.

"What?" Ian stared at him in confusion. "You don't even like this one? You got no taste, Al."

"Did you take your pills?" Alan blurted out. He had never been good at talking in circles.

Ian glared at him. The previous confusion disappeared from his eyes. He didn't like to be reminded of the pills, Alan knew that. But he also knew that Ian hadn't come home last night and his friend had never done that before. So yes, he was worried and needed to know everything was okay.

But he didn't receive the response he desired.

"No. I forgot. Also yesterday. But now it's too late anyway, can't mess with my schedule, right? And I'm fine, so..." Ian shrugged. He gave another glance at Alan and went back to look at the site.

Alan remained silent for a few second. He didn't know if it was best to talk Ian into understanding what was wrong or flat out tell him.

He choose the second option.

"Are you feeling hypomanic right now?"

Ian looked back at Alan. He arched an eyebrow.

"What are you trying to say, Al?"

"I think it's clear." Alan noticed the defensive position Ian had taken. What with his shoulders hunched and his legs ready to stand up and run.

"I told you I'm okay," said Ian. But his voice didn't sound so secure anymore.

"Then how do you explain this..." Alan waved at all the kitchen appliances and various other stuff. "This. Never seen you so interested in remodeling before."

Ian stood up. His fist were clenched. It didn't look like he wanted to started a fight, more like he was standing his ground. "What? I decide not to waste the morning and do something useful instead and now it's hypomania?" he spat at Alan. "I'm just trying to make the kitchen more comfortable to use, you should thank me and maybe even help. I'd help if I were in your shoes."

Ian probably caught on the expression of sympathy on Alan's face, because he turned his eyes from the other guy and started rummaging through the mess stored on the counters.

"Ian, it was you who told me that visual acquisition behavior was a symptom. You told me what patterns I should take notice. Right there on the couch."

Ian didn't stop moving objects on the counter in front of him, avoiding  looking at Alan. "Yeah, I remember. That doesn't mean that for every single thing I do, you have to analyze me like a fucking lab rat. I'm just doing something nice for the apartment."

Alan sighed. He wanted to get closer to Ian, but all the stuff scattered on the floor made it difficult. "I know and thanks, but I think you should really stop and think for a second here." Alan didn't know what a fucking soothing tone of voice was. He was trying, but even at his ears it sounded more annoying and paternalistic. And it was clear that Ian perceived it that way too.

"Think for a second?" he mockingly repeated.  The redhead was once more collecting the shattered china in a small pile. "Why? I need some time to understand that I'm crazy? I know I'm fucking crazy, I don't need you to remind me that!" Ian shouted frustrate. He hit the counter with his fist as if to emphasize his words.

The sound of broken ceramics reverberated once again.

"Ian..." Alan murmured.

Ian looked down at his hand, which was hurting like hell. He noticed the shards of the white china being dirtied by the red of blood. Cautiously, Ian opened his still clenched fist and he felt the painful sting of the pieces stuck in his skin.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, grabbing the wrist of the injured hand with the healthy one. "Fuck!"

Alan swiftly moved to help his roommate. He bumped into a pile of soup cans and packages of dried noodles to get closer to Ian. He grabbed a dishrag to gently wrap Ian's hand.

"Let's go to the bathroom," he said. Ian nodded, following him in front of the mirror above the sink.

Alan took out of the small cabinet behind the mirror a bottle of disinfectant, a roll of gauze, and tweezers. He looked at Ian's open hand and sighed. "Next time slam your fist harder, would you?"

Ian continued his silence. He kept looking down at his hand, flinching a bit when Alan poured the disinfectant on the cuts; biting his bottom lip when he saw the tweezers extract the last pieces. After Alan had tightly wrapped the gauze around his hand, Ian relaxed his shoulders.

"Sorry," he whispered, pulling out his clothed hand from Alan's. His roommate only shrugged.

"That's okay."

"No." Ian shook his head and looked him in the eyes. All Alan could see was resignation and defeat. 

"No, it's not. I think I need to call my doctor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much QueenThursday for betaing this story!  
> And thank you pink_ink! <3


	13. Apology Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! This chapter is quite short. Next one will be longer, I promise :)

Ian didn't feel good. He had just taken his morning pills and now he felt nauseous and was wondering if he should just lock himself in the bathroom for a while. He massaged his belly. The doctor had boosted his usual dose of Lamictal and, as with any other medications, Ian hated to increase the dosage. Every time he had to swallow more milligrams of his meds, he felt disappointed and, once again, angry at his traitorous brain.

Ian would've preferred to stay in bed for another day, unfortunately he had already lost a few days of class and he couldn't really lose another one. Plus, there was a limit to the times he could decline Mandy's offer to come to his house to play nurse. He actually had one already. Alan had revealed himself to be a real Florence Nightingale. He would tend to his hand wounds, he'd take notice of his medication schedule, and even toast his fucking bread so as not to let Ian take his meds on an empty stomach. Ian was already fed up with him, he couldn't imagine having two concerned people rubbing his tummy and head to make the pain go away.

As if summoned, Alan appeared at Ian's bedroom door.

"Did you take your pills?"

Ian rolled his eyes.

"Yes ma’am." He put on his gloves, hiding the white bandage covering part of his hand. "Tell me you're not always gonna be so nagging, please."

Alan smiled a little, buttoning his coat. "Nah. These days have been enough."

His words seemed true, but Ian would’ve bet that Alan was not going to stop checking on him, albeit discreetly. It was okay, though. Ian was past the 'I don't need any help, thanks' phase. Still, sometimes it was too suffocating and he'd wish that he had kept his illness as a secret from everyone.

 

***

 

Speaking about keeping secrets. Mandy's calls had not only been about her worry for Ian, but also to ask her best friend about the night of the accident. Apparently her brother had told her that they had been both drunk and he himself had decided to drive, ending their adventure in a crash. She was mad at her brother, but also at Ian, who shouldn’t have drunk so much and skipped his meds. Eventually, she was mad at herself too, because she hadn't stop Ian and instead had joined him in the drinking game. Ian hated for her to feel guilty, that was why he had agreed to meet Mandy at their usual coffee shop that morning and have a little chit chat with her.

"Hello, boyfriend!" Mandy greeted him in front of his building instead, as soon as Ian opened the front door to get outside.

"Mandy?" asked Ian in surprise. Behind him, Alan closed the door and bumped right against Ian's back.

"Ian, what the-" Alan looked behind Ian's back to see the reason why his roommate had stopped right in the middle of the exit.  "Oh. Uhm. Didn't know you were expecting someone here."

"Me neither," replied Ian, but smiled at his best friend. "Right, guess now's a good time as any to make introductions." He patted Alan's shoulder, who had recomposed himself in a rigid pose. "Mandy, this is Alan, my roomie. Alan, this is Mands, my beard slash bestie."

Ian tried to make the presentations as light as possible, since he knew how awkward Alan was at meeting new people. But he would've loved for his two closest friends in college to at least be comfortable in each other's presence.

As expected, Mandy smiled, extending her hand. "Hi."

And, also as expected, Alan took her hand in the worst possible way: after too many seconds and without gripping it with the right force but like a cold, lifeless thing. Luckily that pathetic scene lasted for just for a moment. Alan then nodded and went his way, accelerating his steps to soon disappear from their sight.

"Interesting human being, huh?" commented Mandy, hooking her arm in Ian's.

"Yes, that's my roommate! I swear once one gets to know him better he's totally fine."

"Sure. Not like my dumbass of a brother. You get to know him better, you just want to run," she joked. Before remembering what had just happened a few nights prior. "About that. More than a run, you to decide to go for a nice, slow ride."

Ian sighed. "I know, I'm so sorry..."

Mandy waved her hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know. It's okay. You're fine, Mickey's fine, the car... well, the car is not, but hey. Mickey broke it, so it's his problem. I just hope this had taught you a lesson: do not become one of Mickey's stupid fanboys, all right?"

Ian smiled and nodded. At the same time he felt a burn down to his stomach that was not caused by his meds. It was just that simple thing called guilt. Mandy had told him that Mickey had come home right after Ian had left and that all the charges had been dropped, but that didn't mean that Ian felt clean. He had ruined Mickey's car and, on top of that, he hadn't taken the blame for it, Mickey himself had. He had hoped the man would've told the truth at least to his sister. Better having Mandy slap his freckled face than having his friend now complaining about her big bro's bad influence. But no, it appeared Mickey wanted to take the secret to his grave.

 

***

 

After having had a nice orange juice instead of the more desired cup of coffee, Ian opened the door of the coffee shop only to make an abrupt stop right in the middle of the exit. Mandy bumped against his back and Ian would've laughed that the same thing happened to him twice in not even an hour if the person he had stopped for wasn't the one he wanted to see and at the same time not see so much.

"Mickey," he just said, focusing all his attention on the other guy.

Mickey looked surprise to see him as well, and started brushing his bottom lip with his thumb.

"Ay, Gallagher," he somewhat greeted.

They were both standing silent, one in front of the other, looking in each other eyes.

"Yeah now that you've established you know each other’s name, can you please move the fucking aside? You're in the middle of the fucking entrance, just so you know," Mandy said from behind Ian, almost completely obscured by the redhead's figure.

"Oh. Shit. Sorry, Mands." Ian moved right away, freeing the still open door of his presence. Once Mandy was visible again, Mickey's eyes drifted to his sister and Ian felt a bit disappointed for not being Mickey's center of the attention anymore.

Mandy put herself between the two of them, taking in the awkward behavior they had going on around them. "Okay, I need to go now. But you two should talk about what happened. You drunkards," she said in a voice that didn't allow any refusal.

She patted Ian's forearm and she punched Mickey's, who just grumbled a good bye and then she was gone, leaving the two men alone. And silent. Still.

"Wanna go inside?" Ian was the first to speak, nodding towards the entrance of the coffee shop.

Mickey shrugged. "I just need to get a cup of coffee, then I have to go to class."

Ian looked visibly surprised. "So you actually go to class," he commented.

The dark-haired guy snorted. "Sometimes I have to, you know." He opened the door of the shop.

"I thought you only slept there." Ian followed Mickey inside, waiting for him to get his coffee.

"That too." Mickey smiled and Ian couldn't help himself. He had to smile too. Mickey curling up the side of his mouth was just an amazing sight as when he'd bite his bottom lip or point his tongue against the corner of his mouth. Now that Ian was thinking about it, he was probably obsessed with Mickey's mouth. And eyes. And expressive eyebrows. Oh, and ass. The ass was probably sharing first place with his mouth in Ian's top three.

"Yeah, but it's still early, you must like the subject."

Ian noticed Mickey went still for a second or two and hated himself for the further inquiry. Maybe he didn't like to talk about his courses, or maybe he just didn't want to answer Ian's questions. Or maybe, even worse, he didn't want to talk to Ian at all.

"It's, uhm, calculus," Mickey replied. Ian sighed of relief. Now was certainly the time to just shut up and be happy that Mickey had answered him.

"Calculus? What for?"

Of course Ian couldn't just shut his trap.

Mickey bit his bottom lip. He didn't look comfortable. "It's not part of my major. Just, you know, to get credits. Didn't want to take feminists studies or some shit," he muttered. "Plus it's always good to know how to count my poker winnings, you know."

This time Ian decided to let the subject drop. "Okay, cool."

Now they were outside, not talking. Mickey with his cup of coffee, Ian with his hands in the coat pockets. Chilly air around them and people bumping against them because they were once again blocking the entrance.

Ian knew it was time to talk, really talk. And he was sure Mickey knew it too. They hadn't exchanged a single text after the night at the police station. Ian had wanted to send him at least a short one to apologize, but the first day he had other things to think about, like going to a not planned appointment with his psychiatrist.  Then he had felt sick. After, Ian had just come to the conclusion that saying "Sorry for your Viper and for getting you arrested" two days after the fact was quite useless and a little obnoxious on his part. There had also been the fact that Mickey hadn't text him either, making Ian come up with the only possible conclusion. Mickey was very angry with him.

So Ian had thought that talking face-to-face was the best solution. But now, in front of an unreadable Mickey, Ian was starting to regret his decision and wanted to run away, sending him an apology via text after having put no less than a mile of distance between them.

Mickey started walking and Ian didn't know if Mickey wanted him to follow behind. Maybe Mickey had decided to end whatever they had going on between them. Ian couldn't blame him, he wasn't sure his dick was worth all the trouble caused by the accident.

"Comin' or what?" Mickey asked, arching an eyebrow. Ian beamed. Fuck, why did he have to show how stupidly happy he was for that single question?

Ian went near Mickey, following him inside one of the hallways of the university. The heat became suffocating and Ian began to undress, taking off coat and gloves. The sight of the injured hand caught Mickey's attention and waved at it with his coffee.

"That from the crash? Don’t remember."

Ian moved his hand to show him the band-aid and some scratches on the skin around it. "No. The, huh, morning after I cut myself with a broken plate."

"Pretty clumsy, Gallagher," commented. Mickey then grabbed his wrist to see the hand up close and Ian felt a shiver running through his spine. It was so stupid to feel that way only after such a simple touch, but he wasn't used to simple touches from Mickey. Usually Mickey touched him because of a fight, for sex or a promise of sex, whereas right now the other guy just seemed concerned _._ _ Be still my heart. _

"Yeah..." Ian was seriously tempted to continue talking about how much of a klutz he was but he knew they had to talk about what had happened. And it was best sooner rather than later. "Mickey, I'm so sorry about the other night." He blurted out. Ian was already suffocating due to the heat in the building, he didn't need to experiment an internal combustion because he was keeping all the words he wanted to say inside. Much like a pressure cooker, he felt all the steam he had been accumulating starting to evaporate. It was time to address the elephant in the room. Or in the hallway. Whatever.

Mickey nodded. "Yeah, you bet your ass you're sorry." He took the last sip out of his coffee, leaving the empty cup on an unoccupied bench. "I came back at 10 am to find my bedroom so cold I was surprised there wasn't a fucking polar bear on my bed, because some asstwat had opened the window to 'air the room' and of fucking course Mandy couldn't be bothered to close it before going to the kitchen."

Mickey looked seriously pissed off, to the point that Ian didn't know if Mickey was actually angrier because of a cold room rather than an arrest for drunk driving. Oh, and a broken car.

"Better cold than the smell of puke," Ian decided to cautiously reply.

Mickey snorted. "Yeah, when one's a heater like yourself." He still hadn't take off his coat. "But, if you want to apologize for destroying my car and for my arrest, then you already did it when we were at the police station."

"Yeah, but-"

Mickey stopped on his track. "Look. You were drunk, but I was too. I shouldn't have let you get inside my car, but I did. And you don't have a driver license, so..." He shrugged. "Plus, they let me go without any charges,  it was just a drag waiting at the station for hours."

Ian nodded, but he wasn't convinced. Mickey must had noticed that, because he added "You know that Mandy would've killed me if I'd let you get in trouble. Especially when I wasn't going to get in any."

That perked Ian's curiosity. "Because of the 'help'?"

Mickey huffed. "Yep. AKA my uncle Ronnie and his diligent intern, my brother Iggy. My uncle owns a law firm here, in LA and back in Chicago. Let's just say nobody at the police station wants to get on his nerves."

"Well, uhm. That's good then," commented Ian. He received a sigh from Mickey in response.

"Yeah. My family has connections everywhere it counts. Milkoviches don't go to prison. We kinda have an unspoken immunity," he said. It sounded nice to always be able to get away with it, but Mickey's tone of voice didn't sound smug about that. He was just stating the fact, without any happiness behind it. Fuck, if Ian didn't know any better, it almost looked like Mickey thought about his immunity more as a curse than a blessing.

"I'd feel like shit if you had gotten charged, you know..." muttered Ian.

"Oh, don't you worry. You can still feel like shit. My uncle paid for the broken fence, but the costs for my Viper's repair are entirely on me. Uncle only promised not to say anything to Pops. He'd get so fucking mad if he knew."

Yes, he was feeling like shit. Ian hadn't think about Mickey's dad before. He didn't want Mickey to have problems with his father because of him. "How much?"

"To get my baby fixed? Around 30k, more or less. Got enough money to cover it."

"Can I help?"

"How much do you have?"

"Huh. Right now, one-two thousand? I'll have to ask my family since we share all the money..." The tradition of the squirrel fund, the old can they would work so hard to fill to cover the expenses for the winter, was still alive amongst the Gallagher family. Only differences was that they weren't using a can anymore, but the bank plus the zeroes in the fund had more than doubled. Basically, a squirrel fund luxury edition.

"Yeah, thanks for the offer, but I can take care of her just fine." Mickey waited a few seconds, before adding. "Still..."

Ian was quick to catch on. "Still?"

"Still, if you really feel so bad about it, you can always repay me with your body. Not contrary to that."

Ian couldn't escape a smile from shaping on his lips. "Thought you were already getting that for free."

"Thought so too, but then the other night instead of wrecking me, you wreaked my car." Mickey moved his index finger left and right. "Not cool, Gallagher."

Ian felt his cheeks burning. "Oh, huh, sorry about that."

"Yeah I know, you're all apology today." Mickey stopped in front of a wooden door. He turned to look Ian in the eyes. "So, as a repayment, you're gonna be on call. When I feel like it, you come. Doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing or with _ who _ you are."

Ian eyes widened. It wasn't the 'repayment' per se that had shocked him. It was that Ian was already basically on call. If Mickey wanted to, he was always ready. Didn't matter where he was, what he was doing or who he was with. The initial confusion disappeared to make place to something much warmer in his chest. The fact that Mickey wanted to state their implicit arrangement in words had to mean something. Okay, it was still a fuck buddy relationship, but Ian could dare to think Mickey wanted for Ian to be exclusive? It didn't escape him that Mickey's voice had particularly stressed on the word 'who'. And he and Mickey would meet quite frequently already, so... maybe... Mickey wasn't seeing anyone else too?

"Sure, I'll be your personal call girl." Ian hadn't intended to smile, but he couldn't help a lopsided grin forming on his face.

Surprisingly, Mickey smiled too, although his smirk ended with his tongue against the corner of the mouth. A sign that Ian was going to be called out very soon.

"Have to go to class now." Mickey nodded to the door. "But I expect my personal call girl to be without pants in the closet in an hour."

Ian laughed. "Yessir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're so great QueenThursday, thank you for helping me :)


	14. The look in his eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's trying to find the 'look in his eyes'

In a semi deserted corridor, there is the door to an unused janitor's closet. That is, unused for the janitor. Because the closet was daily exploited for far more amusing activities than looking for a mop.

"Mhn, yeah, just get on me," Mickey ordered in a moan.

"So bossy," Ian replied, but carried out his duty nevertheless, eliciting another, deep moan from the guy  in front of him. He could feel Mickey relaxing to allow Ian to get further into him.

"Because you're so fucking slow. You use my hole enough, you don't need to spend a fucking eternity shoving fingers up my ass."

Ian chuckled against Mickey's back. "As if you don't like it."

Mickey was ready to reply, but Ian pressed inside him, bottoming out. He clenched around his cock and Ian let him adjust for a few moments.

"Now shut the fuck up and just take it," the redhead said. Mickey didn't snarl back, he grunted and pushed his hips back, meeting the powerful first thrust. Ian smiled, started pistoning into him. It was something he noticed: Mickey liked to play tough, but while having sex he just loved to give Ian control, every day a little more and Ian relished in that, only wanting Mickey to feel good.

Ian advanced more, basically entrapping Mickey between the wall and himself, eliciting a moan from the other guy. The redhead put one forearm against his back, while tightly gripping Mickey's hips with the other. He knew exactly where to put his hands on Mickey's hips, since the bruises caused by his hands the days prior were still there, never fading because they were always renewed.

Ian wanted to go slow, but he knew it was something that Mickey still hadn't conceded to. Much like having sex with their faces close to each other. Pretty much everything that could be considered as intimate.

Yet, Mickey was conceding something. It was not just to let Ian take control and him be there to take it, it was some sort of bond, like the fact that Mickey liked Ian pressed against him. Mickey wanted him so close that he urged Ian by pulling his hair or reaching down to Ian's ass and pressing against it. And Ian couldn't be happier when Mickey's hand just rested there, like in that moment. He caressed Mickey's arm, a stark contrast with the way he was slamming against him. But fuck if Mickey's tightness wasn't amazing.

From his arm, Ian's hand moved to Mickey's chest, resting there, pushing Mickey even closer to him. He could feel the sweat on his nape and decided to lick it away in a long stripe that ended behind his ear. He felt Mickey's breath became shakier and he hazarded to give him an open mouthed kiss there.

"Mhn..." Mickey almost whimpered at that and Ian took it as an invitation to continue. His lips moved from behind the other guy's ear to his neck, leaving a trail of kisses behind, sometimes accompanied by teeth, sometimes by the tongue. He slowed he slowed his relentless rhythm a little to concentrate more of his attention on feeling Mickey shiver under his mouth. Mickey moved his neck to give him more freedom and Ian took advantage of that, taking the time to suck on his skin and leaving a hickey that would last for days. Mickey fucking whimpered and Ian reached a level of confidence that gave him the courage to kiss him on the jaw. Mickey stilled for a second, before once more following Ian's pushes. Ian left another wet kiss there. Fuck, he was feeling ready to come just from that and it appeared Mickey was too from the way he began stroking his own shaft. Ian moved the hand he had on Mickey's hips to help down there, because Ian was a true gentleman like that.

"Shit," Mickey murmured, letting Ian dictate the rhythm, which was getting as frantic as the thrusts. "Gonna come..."

Ian was too and he kept stroking Mickey faster, pistoning into him erratically now. He felt Mickey clenching around him and then coming against the wall and his hand. He followed soon after, releasing himself in the condom.

They stilled, Mickey letting Ian be a weight against his back. Ian wanted so much to pepper his neck with kisses, but he knew that the moment was gone and Mickey would get homicidal. So he sighed, pulling out from Mickey and standing up in an erect position. He removed the condom, tying it. He would dispose of it later. Ian didn't think it was wise to leave all the used condoms in the closet.

Mickey pulled on his boxer and jeans, turning around to lean against the wall with his back. Ian felt his stare while he too started to dress. He decided to make a little show, moving much slower than the usual. Then grinned at Mickey, who rolled his eyes.

"Your dick should be the last thing you cover, you know," commented Mickey. He retrieved a smoke from the packet in his pockets and lit it up, giving it a drag.

"I'll remember for next time." Ian was still smiling while fastening his belt.

Mickey didn't even try to be smug about the reply, they both knew there was gonna be a next time.

"Yeah, you better." Mickey passed the cigarette to Ian.

"So..." Ian inhaled the smoke. "You gonna dress or something for tonight?"

Mickey arched both his eyebrow. He was really shocked. "Whatcha think?"

"But it's mardi gras, Mick. You have to."

Mickey snorted. "It's not. They got the date wrong, we're like two weeks late."

"Doesn't mean I won't wear my pink feather boa. It makes my eyes stand out."

Mickey looked at Ian with apprehension, until he saw Ian grinning like an idiot. He shoved the redhead right in the shoulder.

 

***

 

One of Mickey’s frat brothers had decided to celebrate mardi gras. He had gotten the date wrong, using as an excuse the fact that it wasn't his fault that they change the date every year. It didn't matter that much, anyway, since it was just another opportunity to have a party.

Mandy had decided to take it seriously, however. She had dragged Ian to a costume shop. Ian had had to stand his ground and refused to wear anything weird but a fake glittery golden tie. Mandy had had to forget her plan to make Ian wear nothing but the tie accompanied by golden booty shorts like it were showed on the picture stamped on the package 'the go-go boy'. She had chosen for her a package containing a black corset, a puffy purple skirt with black lace, a black top hat and black forearm gloves. 'mistress of mardi gras' was written on it and she had thought it was appropriate for the party.

Now they were at Mandy's dorm, dressing up before going to the Sigma Alpha Epsilon house. Ian was really feeling like the perfect gay best friend every girl wants since he was in the middle of crushing Mandy's intestines by pulling the corset strings with force.

"Oh! Yes, Ian. Just like that!" Mandy exclaimed, faking a moan when Ian pulled the strings at her waistline with particular strength. Her chuckle was suffocated by Ian knotting the strings too tight.

"Oops, sorry," deadpanned Ian, releasing the knot enough for her to be able to breath again. She proceeded to elbow him in the gut the moment later.

While Mandy was putting on some make-up, Ian sat on her bed. He watched her put the mascara on, with the open mouth expression every girls seemed to take when doing so. He fidgeted with his golden tie, before clearing his throat and asked, with the most nonchalance he could master:

"So, huh. How do you know when a guy's interested in you?" He noticed Mandy now staring at him from the mirror reflex. "I mean, if he cares about you, like, not just wanting to fuck you. If a guy likes you for real."

He had just finished talking, when Mandy jumped on him, still in only stockings and corset.

"OH MY GOD! IAN! Who is he?!"

Ian laid on his back, avoiding eye contact.

 _Your brother_ "Just a guy I've been seeing..." he said.

"Just a guy, huh?" Mandy gave him a knowing look. "Do you like him?"

Ian did like him. Ian was mesmerized by him. Fuck, he thought Mickey was cute even when he belched. And now there was also the fact that Mickey had lied for him, had take the blame for him. Even though Mickey had told him that he hadn't wanted Mandy to get upset and he had known he wouldn't have been charged, Ian was sure that it was something more. That Mickey cared for him. But he needed to know for sure, he didn't want to build castles in the air.

"Uh-huh," Ian only said. But Mandy grinned.

"You like him a lot." She was sitting on his abdomen, successfully pinning him down. Apparently, she wanted some answers. "So, who's he?"

Ian rolled his eyes. Mandy wasn't giving up.

"He's, huh," _Your brother, your goddam brother_ "he's pretty deep in the closet. So I can't give you his name, sorry." _Mickey fucking Milkovich!_

Mandy huffed. "Can't you at least describe him?"

"Yeah, right. So you can go ask every guy matching the description if they're gay or not."

Mandy's eyes closed a little, all of her focus on Ian's face. "Do I know him?"

 _YES!_ "Nah, I mean, don't think so. Maybe you've seen him around campus."

"So he's a student here." Mandy was playing Sherlock Holmes now, and Ian was actually glad that Mandy was quite an awful detective, because Ian wasn't such a good liar, especially under pressure.

"Or a professor, a janitor, the guy at the coffee shop, the cook..." Ian started to list with his fingers. Mandy gave him a slap on his hand.

"I get the point, yeah." She got up, sitting next to him on her knee. She seemed to have troubles to simply sit on her ass with the corset. Maybe it was too tight. "So you're not gonna tell me?"

Ian shook his head. He so wanted to tell her the truth. But he couldn't do that to Mickey. Even if it meant lying to his best friend. "Sorry, Mands. I promise I'll tell you when he's ready to come out."

"Hope his ass is worth it."

Ian smiled. "Oh, he has a nice ass, alright."

Mandy laughed, turning serious a few moments later. Problems of the heart were always a serious matter to her. "So, you were asking about how to understand if they really like you, right?"

Ian nodded. He was glad she had dropped the subject and went on with what he really wanted to know.

She assumed a thoughtful expression. "As far as I know, the best solution, is to just ask."

Ian snorted. "Yeah, cause that would help. He'd just run away. After killing me of course."

"You guys are so constipated when it comes to feelings and yours really seems to be a coward."

"Tell me about it. So how do I know?"

Mandy smiled. "Does he get that look in his eyes when he's with you?"

"What look?"

"You'll know when you see it."

"... Yeah. You're not the fucking oracle, Mands. Just explain, will ya?"

Mandy got up, going back to the mirror to finish her make up. She still had one eye without mascara on. "It's... You know, I can't really explain. It's when you know. They look at you and you can see yourself in their eyes, because they're looking at you. Only _you_. It's... Oh, I don't know, Ian. I think you just have to sort it out by yourself. Now get you ass up here and loosen this fucking corset a bit, I think I'm going to faint."

 

***

 

The theme was mardi gras, but the only decorations that could pass for thematic (and really, the only decorations at all) were colorful banners probably leftovers from some other previous party. On a table close to the entrance, there was a bowl overflowing with small trumpets, these probably part of some batch from New Year's Eve. Basically, everything there had been reused. Only the kegs were brand new.

Mandy grabbed two trumpets, one for her, the other for Ian and they strolled around the room in search for some familiar faces. Some of the other guests didn't bother to dress for the occasion, others seemed to have taken it seriously and they were wearing costumes. The majority of the guys had only put on some props like Ian: masks, strange hats and the likes. Girls, however, had put more effort into dressing like multicolored sluts. Mandy was actually the most clothed around them since her skirt reached just above her knees.

She smiled at her best friend. "First time I feel like a nun, it's kinda refreshing."

"Yeah, Mands. I think a corset that squeezes your boobs out like yours is definitely part of a nun's outfit," replied Ian. Mandy only resolved to stick out her tongue at the redhead.

They got closer to the keg and Ian gestured to a guy to pass him a cup (very colorful cups, another hint of mardi gras atmosphere), when Mandy put a hand on top of his.

"Hey you sure about this? This is gonna be your first and only beer tonight."

Ian sighed and looked at her, annoyed. After Ian had told her that on top of getting drunk and having an incident, the morning after he had had an hypomanic episode. Mandy had started watching Ian's drinking habits like a hawk. When they went out for a drink, Mandy would always make sure Ian would only take one slightly alcoholic drink and then she'd observe him to make sure he was okay. Ian was pissed at her, but he understood Mandy was behaving that way because she cared about him. She had gotten pretty scared when he had told her the reason behind his injured hand and now, even if she was a little oppressive for the moment, he could get behind that because it was her way of showing how much she cared for him.

"Well then, let's fill the cup to the brim," said Ian, filling up his cup literally to the brim, forcing him to put his mouth on it to sip it a little before letting the beer to spill all over. "And you get only one too, by the way," he told Mandy, who cringed at that.

"Yeah, I know. I'm not the same heavyweight I was once. Mickey told me I'm a disgrace to the Milkoviches." She chuckled.

With their cups filled with beer, the two of them walked around until they spotted Mickey, who was sitting on the kitchen counter lazily smoking a blunt. He was talking to a few guys who were listening to him as if he were Jesus reborn and Ian felt his heart skip a beat. Mickey was dressed completely in black, just a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but both garments were a little tighter on his body than usual. Ian was used to seeing Mickey in baggy jeans and loose shirt, with the only exception being that night at the rowing club soiree.  Ian could almost see the shape of his pecs with that black shirt now. And he was willing to bet that Mickey's ass would look so good wrapped up in those tight jeans. If only Mickey would get up from the counter. Not that Ian wouldn't know what to do with a Mickey on a counter. With spread legs. All around Ian.

But maybe Mickey would’t appreciate doing the nasty with Ian in front of his loyal pawns, so yeah. Ian had to erase the thought from his dirty mind.

He and Mandy approached the object of the redhead's desires, who, as they noticed once they got closer, was wearing a black mask, draped on his head like a pair of sunglasses.

"Wow Mick, you really went overboard with the costume," said Mandy sarcastically.

Mickey turned around to look at them, smiling. That smile was a strike to Ian's heart. Ian felt like such a dork to think that Mickey was so pretty when he smiled. No, actually. When he smiled at _him_. And Mandy. But Ian liked to think the smile was mostly for him. It made Ian more confident to finally start what he had begun to define in his mind the 'find the look in his eyes' game.

"Yeah, like your boyfriend here put in that much more effort," Mickey said, extending his hand to pull Ian's golden tie a little. The second later it appeared Mickey had come to his senses and abruptly let go of the tie, like it was burning or something. He bit his bottom lip, looking nervously at his bros there, who were oblivious to what Mickey had probably felt like a public declaration of gayness.

Ian decided to be happy that, at least on an unconscious level, Mickey couldn't exempt himself from touching him.

"I know, Ian is not big on costumes either," pouted Mandy. Then snatched the blunt from Mickey's hand.

"Not big on drinking, too," commented Mickey nodding towards Ian's cup. "You're banned from participating at any drinking games at this fraternity, Gallagher."

Ian growled. "What the fuck, both Milkoviches are against me having fun tonight," he said, but without any real bitterness in his tone.

"Nah, have all the fun you want. Even without drinking, getting high, or getting chicks. I'm gonna kill you if you cheat on my skank of a sister," Mickey said, earning a punch on his arm by Mandy. Ian instead felt like gloating, having transformed in his mind the last sentence in a death threat to if Ian cheated on Mickey himself. He liked his guys possessive.

He must have looked at Mickey too intently, maybe smiling too, because the other guy snapped.

"The fuck are you looking at?"

Ian immediately diverted his eyes. "Sorry, I zoned out," he said, causing an interrogative look from both Milkoviches.

Mickey got up. "Yeah, definitely best you don't get high, you're weird, man." And he made a beeline to the keg. Just as Ian thought. His ass was perfectly wrapped in those jeans. Ian so planned to get Mickey upstairs later.

Ian and Mandy found some other people to talk to and they ended up having fun even without drinking. But Ian sometimes continued to 'zone out' or, more accurately, he continued to play ‘find the look in his eyes'. Ian's own would follow Mickey moving around. Drinking, smoking, talking with someone and he felt kind of stalkerish, but also allowed himself to, because it was actually a very important matter to him. And also because Mickey sometimes glanced back for a second, making Ian feel warm all over.

Once Ian was so focused on Mickey, that he must had poked Mickey with his intensity, because the guy turned to meet his stare. The shorter guy arched up his eyebrows, looking at Ian with an expression that perfectly conveyed Mickey's previous sentence.

_The fuck are you looking at?_

Ian quickly lowered his gaze, wondering the same thing. He didn't know what 'the look in his eyes' meant, but Mandy had told him he'd known when it would happen, so he only had to put up with it and try to find that look. One day.

But possibly that night.

He noticed that Mandy had been looking at him in turn when she spoke. "Hey, everything alright? I'm starting to think you're actually astigmatic."

Ian huffed a breath, but shook his head. "Nah, just tired." He justified himself.

After a while they found themselves engaged in a conversation with Lance, Ian's team member, and a couple of other guys. They were mainly talking about some professors they shared or had shared in the past years and they discovered that Lance was pretty good at making their impressions.

They were having fun, laughing, when Lance shook his head. He was looking behind Ian's and commented "Oh, man. What's up with Mickey and sluts?"

Immediately, both Ian and Mandy turned round to see what was going on. What Ian saw was a strong pang to his chest.

Mickey was sitting on one of the couches. A beer on one hand and a half-naked girl on his lap. Other frat boys were around them, sipping from their own beer. One of them was asking the girl if she knew any mardi gras sex position and she only shrugged, telling them that if she did, it would be Mickey to learn them from her, not him. The guy cried her name in feigned frustration and Ian heard her name. Angie.

"Angie Zago?" said Mandy. "Don't even get me started, Lance. He only goes for easy ones. Still don't know if he likes them cause he's afraid of commitment or the sex is better." She shrugged, laughing at some joke Lance made. But Ian wasn't paying attention anymore.

He was totally focused on the scene. He too knew Angie Zago. How could he not? Sam was a gossip girl and the biggest skank of the college couldn't go unnoticed. Angie was  part of a sorority, a skinny bulimic bitch who never turned a guy down. Frankly, Ian didn't know if it was because she had low self esteem or she was a nympho, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that the skank had one arm around Mickey's shoulders and with the other hand she was touching his pecs. The pecs that were so beautifully shaped under that tight shirt. Ian could feel green jealousy mounting in him. He just wanted to get out, move his fucking feet and run from that sight, but there he was, still staring at Mickey.

Mickey was laughing with her. Fucking laughing. She let him put an arm around her tiny waist. Ian's eyes were glued to them.

Then Mickey turned his head. His blue eyes met Ian's. Mickey immediately let go of her waist and looked at Ian with wide eyes. He seemed like a kid caught by his parents eating forbidden sweets. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but he closed it the second after. His eyes detached themselves from Ian's and he focused again on Angie by putting the arm around her waist once again.

Ian forced himself to deflect his attention as well, trying to listen to Mandy's conversation.

"So yeah, he was with this girl and Iggy caught them and they discovered that Iggy was doing her too..."

No, he need to tune out of that too.

"I-I need to go piss." That was the only excuse he could come up with. Truth was, he only wanted to get himself another beer. Or just fucking running back to his apartment.

Mandy seemed to notice his change of mood, however, and excused herself to accompany Ian.

"What's up, Ian?" she asked, concerned.

"Fucking chill. I'm not having an episode," Ian snapped. He only wanted to vent on someone about what he had just seen. He soon collected himself, especially after seeing the hurt on Mandy's face. He shook his head. "Sorry, Mands, I'm just tired I guess."

Mandy nodded and actually escorted him to the bathroom. "Maybe you don't actually need to pee but I do." She went straight to the toilet and pulled her stockings down.

"Ew, Mands, I get that I'm gay and all but I don't really need to see you peeing," said Ian with a grimace, after he heard the sound.

She snorted. "No, you're my BFF so it's okay if we go pee together."

"Yeah, sure. That's just an excuse to see my dick." Ian moved to let her wash her hands.

"I guess that's part of the deal. I need to know what the female gender is losing, you know." She shrugged and pulled her lipstick, blush and eyeliner from her purse. While she was putting some more eyeliner on her eyelids, she smirked. "Actually, my dear BFF..."

 

***

 

When Ian went out from the bathroom, he had black eyeliner around his eyes. He felt like a fucking panda.

"See? You look so damn sexy!" Mandy exclaimed, satisfied by her handiwork.

Ian rolled his painted eyes. He had only let her play make-up artist with him because it was a costume party and everybody else was already drunk. After bantering with her he had actually felt better and the urge to run away had disappeared. But he still needed a little time alone.

"Going to get some fresh air," he said. "Really, Mands, I'm fine," Ian added, before Mandy could say anything. She nodded and left to look for Lance and the other guys.

Finally alone, Ian sighed. He headed for the veranda, maybe to have a smoke there. Close to the door he walked into Mickey who smirked at him like Ian hadn't caught him with Angie before.

"Ay, Gallagher. You behaved with alcohol tonight? My car is still at the mechanic, can't lend you another one to crash," Mickey told him. There was no hatred behind his words, but Ian still felt like shit for the reminder.

"I just had that cup of beer," Ian replied, diverting his eyes from Mickey's. He didn't know how to behave with Mickey. Should he say that he didn't like him with that girl? Or he was not supposed to? But Mickey _had_ looked guilty when he had been seen by Ian with Angie.

When he decided to meet his eyes, he found that Mickey was staring at him intently. Like he was trying to decipher God knows what on Ian's face. The redhead felt the beat of his heart to increase. Was that the look in his eyes?

"What the fuck do you have on your eyes? Is that fucking make-up?"

Ian was brought back to reality by that comment. Of course it was not _that_ look. "Mandy's fault."

Mickey sneered. "You're such a pussy with my sister. One day you'll find yourself peeing in the same bathroom."

Ian decided not to comment on that.

They both stared at each other, fidgeting a little. When Mickey heard some voices calling him, he seemed visibly relieved.

"Well, gotta go, Gallagher."

But Ian didn't want him to go. He was jealous as fuck. He didn't want Mickey to go back to Angie or anyone else for that matter.

He grabbed Mickey's arm the moment the other guy decided to move towards his friends. Mickey looked at him with wide eyes.

"Do you wanna go upstairs?" Ian asked suddenly. "I'm gonna fuck you just how you like it."

He had caught Mickey off guard and the guy stilled for a second. His blue eyes flicked towards the stairs, but then he heard his friends calling him again. He snatched back his arm from Ian's grip.

"Nah, thanks man. Not tonight," Mickey said with a light tone. He nodded towards his friends and left Ian there, without looking back.

Ian clenched his fists. He wanted to follow him and make Mickey pay attention to him. He wanted Mickey to smile at him and be comfortable around him, even with people around them.

Ian sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

_One two three four..._

He breathed out. One, two times before he could feel himself calming down.

He went to look for Mandy and he found her staring intently at the keg, probably wondering if she should get another cup or not.

"Mands, hey. I'm going home, I'm really tired."

Mandy looked surprised, but nodded. "Coming with you. If you leave me alone I could get drunk again."

They went to get their coats.

It was when Ian was putting his scarf on that he saw it.

Mickey was by the stairs. He was with Angie, who wore his black mask. She was clearly drunk and horny, kissing Mickey on the neck, nipping at his skin; her hand fixed on his thigh, partly for malice, partly to steadying herself.

Ian couldn't move anymore, staring at the scene. Their eyes crossed each other's. Until Mickey diverted his owns. He scooped Angie in his arms like a princess, causing her to squeal in delight.

Ian looked at Mickey's back until he disappeared upstairs.

He didn't wait for Mandy before rushing outside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you QueenThursday for being my beta! <3


	15. I fucked Angie. Everybody fucks Angie. You don't fuck Angie?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew he was 'on call' with Mickey. At least about that, they had agreed on. But Ian really couldn't do it. He found himself too angry, too bitter, too fucking jealous to just keep seeing Mickey and have casual sex. It had never been casual for Ian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that the texts Mickey sent are spread in a period of more days :)

**[3:45 PM]Mickey: Be there in an hour**

**[5:00 PM]Mickey: where the fuck r u?**

*******

**[11:07 AM]Mickey: half an hour. Better be there Gallagher**

**[12:05 AM]Mickey: fuck u**

*******

**[10:34 AM]Mickey: u sick or something?**

**[4:17 PM]Mickey: I know ur not sick**

**[5:20 PM]Mickey: the fuck had crawled up ur ass?**

*******

**[6:31 PM]Mickey: thought we had an agreement**

*******

**[1:22 AM]Mickey: Fuckhead Im not gonna keep texting you like some bitch**

 

Ian read the last text and flipped his phone around, not before lowering the volume to zero. He rolled on one side, giving his back to the phone. He covered himself to his chin with the blanket.

Yeah, well. _Fuck you!_

That was what Ian was thinking at the time.

Since Mardi Gras Ian had refused to talk to Mickey. It had been pretty easy. They didn't have any lessons in common, what they had was the janitor's closet. If Ian didn't go there, the chances of running into Mickey were minimal. The messages were a completely  different thing though. At first, Ian had wanted to forgive and forget. They had never discussed  being exclusive and Mickey had never said he didn't fuck girls too. But then anger had won over Ian's desire to continue a relationship that was clearly not going anywhere. So he had resorted not to meet with Mickey anymore. He knew he was 'on call' with Mickey. At least about that, they had agreed on. But Ian really couldn't do it. He found himself too angry, too bitter, too fucking jealous to just keep seeing Mickey and having casual sex. It had never been casual for Ian. And he had really hoped it was going to be something more for Mickey too.

Boy, had he been wrong all along.

Fucking Angie. Ian was so irrationally pissed at her. He couldn't even bring himself to reply to any of Mickey's text for fear the first thing he’d mentioned would be  Angie. And he would lose Mickey forever.

Fuck. Did he want Mickey or not?

Ian didn't know for sure anymore. What was certain was that Ian couldn't continue chasing Mickey without the hope that one day Mickey would reciprocate his feeling. What were Ian's feelings, then, he was still confused.

Ian turned back. He looked another time at Mickey's latest texts.

He sighed and with a soft "Fuck you, Mickey" on his lips, he tried to get himself to sleep.

 

***

 

As stated, it really was easy to avoid Mickey on campus. That was, as long as Mickey himself wasn't looking for Ian.

It happened three days after the last text from Mickey. Ian found himself face to face with the dark haired guy, who was looking at him with a menacing glare. Ian was shocked at first, but then decided to keep his head straight and school his face in an unreadable expression. He wasn't really that good at it, but at least he didn't look scared or hopeful.

"Firecrotch," greeted Mickey.

Ian only nodded.

Mickey scratched his nose. "Ok, what's up with you?" he blurted out. It appeared he didn't want to beat around the bush. But what could Ian say? _I'm jealous?_

"Whatcha think?" Ian replied with a question instead.

Mickey didn't seem pleased. "I think if I knew I wouldn't be standing here asking you that. I just know that we have an agreement, you and I. You broke my car and now we fuck whenever I want."

"Yeah, you really like easy fucks, right?" commented Ian in a whisper.

"What's that, Mumbles?"

"Nothing," Ian said bitterly

"Yeah, well then I don't see why we can't fuck. You impotent or something now?"

Ian snorted. The problem was not an erectile dysfunction. The problem was that Ian was angry and jealous and Mickey didn't seem to notice. Mickey wasn't mentioning Angie or when he had refused Ian's proposition. 'Sorry' was not a word in Mickey's vocabulary.

Ian was almost tempted to turn on his heels and get as far away as he could from that guy. It seemed like it had been all for nothing. Mickey hadn't come up with that 'call girl' deal because he wanted Ian around more often, it was really just something convenient for him. Nothing more.

"So you wanna fuck right? Let's fuck, then." Ian snapped, instead. If that was the only thing Mickey wanted from him, he would've given it to Mickey. It was for his own pleasure too. One last time, then Ian really had to stop this relationship or whatever it was. They couldn't only have sex at Mickey's will.

It appeared Ian's reply had surprised Mickey, because his eyebrows shot to the hairline. But he soon seemed to recompose himself. "Yeah, let's go fuck, fucking finally."

 

***

 

As soon as they entered the closet they started tearing each other's clothes apart. Ian had wanted to take it slow, to imprint it to memory, but he was too angry at Mickey to take his time, and Mickey seemed particularly horny.

Mickey didn't even say anything when Ian bit his neck before taking off his shirt. He only moaned, getting back to pull Ian's fly down.

"Now you're so eager, huh? You weren't when I wanted to fuck you at the party." Ian really couldn't refrain to stay silent.

Mickey didn't even seem to listen, he appeared very interested in pulling Ian's pants down.

"Did you really fuck Angie?" Ian knew he shouldn't have asked that. Not when he wasn’t ready to receive an answer. He only wanted to hang on to the hope that Mickey maybe had just put on a show for the others. He regretted those words as soon as they escaped his mouth.

"Yeah, I fucked Angie." Mickey looked at Ian in disbelief. "Everybody fucks Angie. You don't fuck Angie?"

Ian couldn't believe his ears. "No. I'm gay." _And so are you_.

Mickey opened his mouth to say something, but instead he decided to use it to blow Ian. He got on his knees and didn't waste any time teasing. He went straight ( _what a pun_ ) to take Ian's cock in his mouth, readily bobbing his head up and down Ian's inches. Ian wanted to stop Mickey, continue talking instead, but the flesh is weak. Also horny. Ian didn't really know what he wanted anymore. Talk to Mickey, fuck Mickey, making Mickey beg and say 'I'm sorry', convince Mickey that there was more to it. He desired all of them, but he could only concentrate on the feeling of Mickey's warm mouth, that tight wetness around his cock. Mickey was so fucking good at giving head and he was putting quite the effort in this occasion. Ian could feel Mickey's throat brushing against his tip, over and over again. He was so overwhelmed by the sensations, that he had to pull Mickey away, pulling at his hair.

Mickey smirked, the bastard. "See Firecrotch? There was no reason to stop being on call," he said.

Ian didn't retort. He knew exactly what the reason was and he actually should stop right there and then and get the fuck out. Mickey didn't seem even slightly guilty for what had happened that night. Even now he sported a cocky grin, as if he knew things were going his way. As always. Ian should've just told him he didn't want to waste any more time with him, because Mickey was a dead end.

Fact was, Ian had never thought of Mickey as a dead end. He had never really believed he had  wasted time on him. He loved spending time with the other guy. And if this was the last time he let himself be with Mickey, he wanted to have it.

No words escaped from Ian's mouth, but he turned Mickey around and pressed him against the wall. His cock was leaking with precome and Mickey's was no better. Ian hastily fumbled with his jeans pockets to find lube and a condom. He slicked his fingers with the lube, not really taking any time before inserting the first finger. He sighed and he heard Mickey moan. Mickey was fucking tight and Ian felt the pressure against the fingers once he inserted a second one, and then a third. With the other hand Ian kept roaming over Mickey's skin, from his biceps, to his pecs, down to the abdomen. The redhead didn't want to let any of that go, but he knew it was only harmful for him to continue waiting for something more from Mickey.

"C'mon, Gallagher. Fuck me." Mickey was trembling under his touches. He was thrusting against his fingers, inviting Ian to go deeper into him.

"Ian." He wanted to hear Mickey say it. Say his name. Mickey had called him Ian before, but only during the accident and probably to try calming him down. Ian only remembered it vaguely. Now he wished so much to hear Mickey moaning his name. At least once.

Mickey wasn't saying anything, so Ian pulled out his fingers and tore the wrapper apart. He then rolled the condom onto his cock, stroking it a little to slick it properly.

"It's Ian," he repeated. Ian spread Mickey's ass cheeks with his hands, looking at Mickey's hole clenching and relaxing. Mickey wanted Ian's cock, at least that was for sure. Ian brushed his hole with the tip, not even pushing to go inside.

"Ian. Just fuck me, aight?" Mickey conceded, rocking back with his hips.

Ian couldn't resist much longer. He watched his cock entering Mickey's stretched hole. If he really thought with his cock, that night at the party would've been already long forgotten. Ian had never felt like this before; never felt that longing for someone else. The problem was that he wasn’t desiring only his body, but all of Mickey as well. The feeling was almost ruining the moment, seeing asIan had made a decision.

Mickey grunted in pleasure when Ian bottomed out. He stilled for a second, clenching around Ian.

"Ian..." he repeated his name and Ian started to thrust with vigor into him. Ian knew how to move in Mickey. He knew his body, his sweet spot, and he proceeded to push against Mickey's prostate, making him whimper under him. Ian knew how to pinch his nipples or how hard to grip his hips. What he didn't know was what his mouth tasted like, what it was to be so close to Mickey's face they'd breath the same air, how his face looked as he came apart.

"Mh, yeah. Right there," moaned Mickey when Ian hit the prostate with just the right intensity. He was trembling under Ian's touch, a sign he was close to the climax. Mickey pressed his head against the wall and curved one arm towards the back, to interlock his fingers with Ian's red hair. At that slight pull of his hair, Ian started pumping more rhythmically in Mickey, using one hand to stroke his dick. He couldn't help himself, he leaned forward to leave a trail of kisses from his nape of his neck to the shoulders, to Mickey's back. Mickey was so into it, letting Ian almost completely trap him against the wall. Ian left a hickey in the middle of his shoulders and the mewling that escaped from Mickey's lips was enough to make Ian come hard. Moments later, he felt a warm tightness around his lathered cock and heard Mickey grunt. Mickey had come as well, dirtying Ian's hand and the wall.

The only sound coming from the two boys was heavy breathing. They were completely spent and Ian leaned further against Mickey, who still hadn't removed his fingers from the red locks. Ian was inside Mickey and the other guy didn't seem to mind. They couldn't move; they didn't want to.

After a few seconds, Mickey turned his head to the right, watching Ian from under his bended arm. He had his mouth still open, trying to regain his breath, which was warm against Ian's face, melting with his own. He was looking in Ian's eyes and Ian met his gaze with the same intensity as Mickey's. Mickey's gaze was lingering on Ian's lips and the redhead thought That is it. Could Ian believe that it wasn't all for nothing? Could it be that Mickey wanted to take a step ahead and kiss him?

That was it. Ian leaned closer to Mickey's lips. It was his last chance, he had to try.  He wanted so much to meet those dark, pink lips against his own. He so longed for an assurance that Mickey thought more of their relationship than a fuck buddy one.

But when Ian was so close to him, he noticed the panic in Mickey's eyes.

It didn't come as a shock when Mickey turned his head, causing Ian to only kiss his cheek.

It really didn't.

How could Ian have been so stupid? He had been so set on letting Mickey go and instead he had fallen again for an illusion.

_Stupid stupid stupid. Fuck._

He pulled out of Mickey, slightly wincing because of the hurry. He heard Mickey grunting in discomfort too, but he couldn't care less.

He tossed the condom on the floor. He just wanted to leave the sooner the better. He dressed hastily, not looking at Mickey.

But when he heard Mickey clearing his throat and start

"Ay, man-"

"WHAT," spat Ian, turning around to watch Mickey with only his boxer on. He shoved the other guy against the wall, exactly were they had sex just moments before. "Ay, man what, huh? Kissing is too much? Too faggoty for Mr Straight Guy here? Thought loving to take it up the ass was way worse. But hey, I'm not so virile as you are, what do I know?"

Ian finished dressing in a hurry, not even bothering to completely buttoning his shirt. He only wanted to get the hell out of there. He couldn't even stand being in the same room as Mickey, he needed to breath fresh air.

Mickey opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes looked everywhere else but Ian. The redhead had opened the door, but stopped his movements to hear what Mickey wanted to say. Once again, the other guy couldn't cease disappointing him. Mickey closed his mouth, looking down to the floor.

Ian bitterly smiled. What was he expecting?

"Yeah, as I thought," he said, shaking his head. "See ya, Mickey."

Ian went out and closed the door behind him with a slam.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather short, I know. Promise next one will be much longer (for my standards)<3


	16. Who’s Ned? Or, Third time’s a charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I like guys, I like giving it to them. You go fuck your skanks, I'll fuck my guys." He waited a second before adding "Like Ned."

There was a black cloud above Ian's head. Yet, for everybody else, it was invisible. Even Mandy could only see that Ian was in a bad mood. After their lesson had ended, they had decided to go back to Mandy's room to watch a movie on her laptop. It was supposed to be a funny comedy and Mandy would've even been laughing if Ian wasn't there emanating a sad, particularly heavy aura.

Mandy had tried to zip it, let Ian start the conversation. She didn't want to be a nagging friend. She had wanted to give Ian time.

But it had been more than three hours and the longest sentence Ian had said had been "Yes Mandy, I'm fucking fine". So yeah, the girl was starting to burst with curiosity/apprehension and was biting her nails to stop her mouth from blabbing something that could set off Ian's anger.

"Ian, what's wrong?" she asked in the end, as she didn't have any more nails to bite.

Ian snapped his head to look at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't know how to start or what to say.

_ Wanna know what's wrong? Your pussy of a brother is what's wrong! _

He wanted to tell her that, he wanted to let some steam off. He needed to tell her the whole truth. She had to know her brother was gay, that they used to fuck, that he liked Mickey so much but that her brother didn't want to kiss him. Or maybe he did want to, but he was fucking scared.

Oh, Ian didn't know what to think, what to do. He wanted to kiss Mickey or kill him? Or kiss him then kill him?

Did he want to see him again? Accepting only sex and nothing else? Their sex was mind-blowing, but it couldn't give Ian all he needed. And Ian craved more, he craved all of Mickey. But that wasn't going to happen.

Still, the thought of letting Mickey go and finding someone else, made him laugh bitterly. Or, even worse, to find Mickey with his replacement, since apparently the guy didn't give a fuck of who he was doing it with, as long as it was convenient. Stupid Ian had thought there was something more between them.

Mandy could help him sort it out? He couldn't give her all the information, but advice was always well accepted from his friend.

Ian was starting to collect his thoughts to reply to her question, when 'what's-wrong' appeared almost out of thin air.

That is to say, he just opened Mandy's door, which they had forgotten was unlocked.

Details. For Ian his appearance had come too suddenly and too soon for sure.

"Yo, skank," he greeted her with his usual savoir faire. He threw a small bag of blue weed on her lap. "As you asked..."

Mickey's words trailed off when he noticed Ian's presence in his sister's room. Their eyes immediately locked.

"Yeah, like a week ago, assface." She shook her head, not even noticing that the guys attention was not on her. "And I told you I had my boyfriend over. What if we were getting it on?"

Mickey snorted, looking away from Ian to glance at his sister. "Well then use the fucking lock. Ya know how to use it, right?"

Mandy rolled her eyes, mumbling something between her teeth. Ian was still silent, instead.

Mickey cleared his throat. "Oh, right. A girl on the fourth floor asked for you."

She arched an eyebrow. "Who? What does she want?"

Mickey arched _ both _ eyebrows "The fuck should I know. A girl. Fourth fucking floor. Get your ass over there!"

Mandy huffed and puffed, but she got up nevertheless. She throw Ian an apologetic look. She didn't want to leave her friend alone when he was so down. At the same time she loved when other girls asked for her. She had never really had any girlfriends.

"Ok, I'm going. You put the movie on hold," she said to Ian, who only nodded.

After putting on her shoes, she left the guys alone.

Alone.

_ Fuck . _

The silence between them was heavy with tension and Ian wanted to run away from that small room. Yet his ass was glued to the bed. Stupid, stupid hope. Like Mickey was going to kiss him in that moment and make all of his worries go away.

Mickey was scratching at his nose, probably in search of words to make Ian feel even worse than he already was. He decided to go first.

"Mick-"

"Galla-"

They both started to speak at the same time and at the same time they stopped. An embarrassing silence followed again. Ian decided to nod at Mickey to let him speak.

"Listen, there was no reason for you to leave like that yest-"

"No reason?!" Ian shout, surprising Mickey for a second.

"Yeah. I mean we were fucking and the next second you stormed out of the room."

Ian couldn't believe his ears. What the fuck, hadn't Mickey been in that same room with him the day before?

"What?! Don't tell me you fucking forgot what happened in between-" Ian shook his head. It was like talking to a wall. "Yeah, okay. Sorry, my fault. I thought you were better, silly me, right? I just didn't know you were such a pussy eater. So much that taking it up the ass on the daily doesn't even ruin your incredible heterosexuality. But it's okay. We're different." Ian hurt at every word, but the look of surprise on Mickey's face was a small satisfaction. "I like guys, I like giving it to them. You go fuck your skanks, I'll fuck my guys." He waited a second before adding. "Like Ned."

"NED? Who the fuck is he?" Mickey shouted.

Ian could easily see the anger in his eyes. He thought he could also spot jealousy, but that could be only wishful thinking. If anything, maybe Mickey didn't like sharing a dick with someone called Ned. Well, too bad.

"Just a guy I've been seeing," Ian replied, crossing his arms.

Mickey frowned, almost as if the concept of 'seeing someone' was something incomprehensible for him. "You mean..." he started.

"We fuck, Mickey." Then Ian couldn't help it and he had to add "Like you and Angie."

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Yeah, about that-"

"Don't worry, Mick," Ian interrupted. He didn't want to hear anything about Mickey and Angie. "If in between all that pussy you ever feel like going for dicks, I can bang you, sometimes," Ian said, trying to sound as detached as he could. His gaze never faltered and he kept on looking straight into Mickey's eyes, raising his chin in a defiant pose.

Mickey opened his mouth to talk when Mandy came back. She opened her door, hitting Mickey against the shoulder. Curses followed through.

"Oops, sorry." She shrugged, not really sorry at all. The Milkovich siblings had never been very delicate with one another. "She only wanted to talk about a seminar, nothing much."

She went to sit close to Ian, then patted her other side as an invite for her brother. "Wanna watch this with us? It's already in the middle, though."

Mickey looked at her, then at Ian. He shook his head. "No... I-I need to go."

Without waiting for Mandy's reply, he went out, disappearing as fast as he had appeared.

Mandy waited only for a few seconds before coming back to the topic they had left off before. Ian mood hadn't improved while she was away. Actually, it seemed even worse. Her stupid brother must have said something even more stupid.

"Ian, wanna talk about it? Whatever it is." Every time Ian's mood would change, she'd get worried. Ian wasn't really comfortable with that, but this time he was almost tempted to let her believe his dark mood was due to his bipolar. But he didn't need to lie, because Mandy apparently wasn’t as dense as he thought.

"Is it because of Mystery Guy?" she asked.

Ian looked at her, surprised. Of course she didn't know about Mickey, but she hadn't forgotten Ian talking about some guy he had feelings for.

"Yeah," Ian admitted. "I thought there was something between us, but there wasn't. Only a huge pile of shit."

Ian was so bitter telling her about his problem that Mandy had to hug him tight. If only she knew who that guy was, she would beat the crap out of him.

 

***

 

So. This Ned guy.

Who the fuck was he?

Well, certainly he wasn't the guy Ian had been seeing. There had been only Mickey for weeks.

Was he just some name Ian had come up with in the heat of the argument?

Not exactly. But that didn't mean that Ian couldn’t still hear a chorus of " _ Liar liar, pants on fire! _ " in his head.

Ian really only wanted to make Mickey angry, and yeah, jealous too. Mickey had to believe that he hadn't been the only one getting his tip wet with someone else.

To tell the truth and nothing but the truth, Ian hadn't been missing opportunities to hook up with others, this Ned guy included. He just hadn't want to. Not when Mickey, maybe...

Ian shook his head, scrolling down the texts on his phone. The text he was looking for was dated two weeks ago. In the text Ned had told him he was going to be in Boston in ten days for a conference and he wanted so much to see Ian before going back to NY. Which was happening... Oh. _ Tomorrow . _

Should Ian call him? They had kind of a stormy relationship and Ian didn't even like the guy that much anymore.

Ned was much older than Ian. Nothing really surprising there, looking back at Ian's relationships history before Mickey. What had made Ned stand up above the others in a scale of creepiness, was the fact that not only he was more than fifty years old, but he had been also the father of Fiona ex fiance.

They had met when Ian was fifteen, roundabout at the same time Fiona had met Jimmy, who at the time had been going by the name of Steve. Ned had preyed on Ian like a hawk the moment the redhead had entered the glittery doors of the gay club the old man used to hang out with his other closeted friends. Ian hadn't really stood a chance. 

The adolescent ginger had just started embracing his sexuality. True, Ned could've been his grandpa, but he was more experienced and had a free way of spending his money like it had been created to grant his wishes, that Ian wanted himself to have. 

They had started seeing each other pretty soon after they meet. Ian had been sexually active for about six months and he'd lacked any real experience. Ned had let him explore, and he had taught him. Like _ a lot _ . Ned was such a nelly bottom that Ian could get better at what he liked the most, be the top. Their relationship hadn't been limited only in the confines of a hotel room. Ned would introduce Ian to the rich and gay of Chicago, he'd take Ian to fancy dinners and he'd listen to whatever Ian had to vent on or confide in. 

But when Fiona had announced her engagement to Jimmy Lishman and their families had come to meet one another, Ian had found out the truth. Ian and Ned had mutually decided to stop seeing one another and accept their soon to be relation by law.

The wedding had never happened, however, and they had stopped being in contact after the Gallagher family had moved to Texas. Things had changed when bipolar had kicked in while Ian had been in New York. In his months of partying hard, he had found Ned again, divorced and publicly living as a gay doctor in the city. Ian had moved his stuff into Ned's place until the man had thrown him out, due to Ian hosting too many parties at his house characterized by orgies and drugs.

They had not seen each other again. Ian had only contacted Ned after he had gotten stabilized on his meds to apologize. After that, Ned had tried to meet Ian again, but Ian had always refused, since rekindling a story with a man thrice his age hadn't seem to be the appropriate thing to do after he had just gotten his life back.

They had kept sending each other greetings on holidays and Ned would always send him a luxurious present for Ian's birthday. Other than that, their contacts had been little to none. Until two weeks ago, when Ned had texted him asking to hang out while he was in Boston. Of course, when Ian had received the text he still was on cloud fucking nine with the hope of Mickey finally starting to feel something for him. Ian had told Ned he wasn’t interested. Now though, things had drastically changed and Ian was thinking that seeing Ned again was actually good for him. He wanted to be in the company of someone who had come out and was confident about who he was; someone who didn't fear the proximity to Ian in public.

That was the reason why Ned's name had come up in his argument with Mickey and also why Ian decided to reply to the text informing Ned he'd gladly see him that night.

 

***

 

So there Ian was. At the Back End, a gay bar he had once been dragged to by Mandy. 

With Ned.

Ian had expected to have a nice evening in his company, talking about casual stuff, or college. He had thought Ned would give him some advice, like he had always done and then who knows, depending on how the date went they could have really ended up rekindling their old flame.

Instead the thought of spending the night in bed with Ned for anything other then to smother his face with a pillow was far away from his mind. Ian actually wanted to bolt.

Ned was a lecherous old man. And really, he had always have been. But before Lloyd Lishman had appeared as wise and almost fatherly figure, a true connoisseur of the ways of the world. Ian had felt like a pupil with his teacher in Ned’s company. Now, however, Ian suspected he was seeing Ned for what he really was for the first time. He was old, definitely too old for him. He was boring, vain, and full of shit about his many great accomplishments. And he was definitely handsy. Fuck, Ian definitely didn't remember how much the man didn't let a single occasion to touch Ian's thigh go to waste. He was sitting so close to the redhead, Ian could feel the heat of his body against his. It soon came to the point where Ian couldn't scoot anymore on the couch unless he wanted to fall down.

What was happening?

Had Ned always been this way or it was a new thing?

Because if it was the former, Ian wanted to beat his younger self to death for having been so fascinated with the man years ago.

With Mickey things were the opposite. Ian wanted Mickey to touch him so casually in public; he found Mickey hilarious and enthralling and hot, so sexy and smart. The moments with him were full of sex and complicity.

But also filled with sadness and frustration, pining after someone who was not going to reciprocate his feelings.

Ian side glanced at Ned. The old man was looking at him as if he was incredibly hungry and needed his refill of Ginger Snapp asap.

Fuck, was he being better off with someone like Ned?

Or with a Stan, a Kash, or an Evan?

No. There was really only a person Ian could see himself with: Mickey.

And since Mickey was unavailable, Ian guessed he would really have to go celibate for at least a while.

For the moment, Jack Daniels would have to suffice as the perfect companion to distract the redhead from Ned's vainglorious ramblings. He didn't really care to know how many compliments Ned had received at the conference.

To distract himself even more, Ian took out his phone scrolling to some of the last pictures he had taken. Mostly they were stupid selfies with Mandy, Ian was not ashamed to admit it. Others were of himself, of Alan (usually with a very annoyed expression on his face) and of Mickey. Only one. Ian had taken it in a very stalkerish way: from afar. But how could he not have snapped it when Mickey looked so good with a cigarette between his lips, sitting without a care in the world on a bench on campus? It was one of his most treasured pictures even if Ian knew he should just delete it.

Instead of deleting it, though, Ian did something way worse.

He opened the texts and decided that, since he was drunk and bored/creeped out of his mind, he might as well lie and let that fucker Milkovich know what a blast he was having with Ned.

** [10:16 PM]: You know what Mick? ** _ -Yeah, let's go with Mick- _ ** I'm so done being at your call. I'll give you the money for your damn car but whatever we've had is over now. I'm having so much fun with Ned. He's mature, he doesn't hide and he's not afraid to kiss me, like someone I know. Go fuck your Angie, I'm gonna fuck Ned senseless. Good and hard. **

Ian sent the text without reading it a second time. He needed for it to get out and for him to get over Mickey. So what if Ian didn't have any interest towards Ned? What if he wanted to bolt from those octopus hands of his? Mickey had to think the contrary. Ian needed at least a little bit of satisfaction before going back home and forcing Alan to watch some chick flick and eat ice-cream with him.

After not even five minutes, Ian felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. It was a text from Mickey. He spent an entire minute looking at the lock-screen, tuning whatever Ned was saying out.

Was it a good reply? A bad one?

And anyways. What was a good reply or a bad one in this case? What did Ian want Mickey to say? Was he fucking over Mickey or not?

He took a deep breath and read the text.

** [10:20 PM] Mickey: The hell do I care bitch **

Ian let out a chuckle and closed his eyes.

What had he expected, really? Mickey telling him to ditch Ned and come back to him 'cause he was so gay for him?

_ Yeah, right. _

"Ian? Is everything alright?" asked Ned, noticing Ian distress.

"Yeah, yeah. It's just a text from a friend. She might be sick," he told Ned. He only hoped it wasn't such a blatant lie. A small part of him wanted to prove to Mickey he didn't care either and really go fuck Ned, but another, bigger part just wanted to go home and let tears flow.

"Oh. You want me to check on her" His voice became deeper. "And then I can check on you too?"

Ian grimaced internally, but smiled on the front. "No, thanks, I-"

His phone vibrated again. Ian stilled for a second, before reaching out for his phone.

It was another text from Mickey.

This time he just opened it. Didn't make any sense to lose another twenty years of his life to discover it was another slur.

** [10:27: PM] Mickey: Where the fuck r u anyways? **

_ What? _

Ian couldn't understand the meaning of the question for the life of him. He replied, though.

** [10:29 PM]: Well, I'm in the gayest part of town, in the gayest bar with the gayest name ever, all being gay with my gay friend here, soon to have some very gay sex. **

He could already imagine the expression on Mickey's face while reading it. He was probably retching every single time he read the word 'gay'.

Ian decided that maybe staying a little longer in Ned's company could be another good fuck you to Mickey.

"It's my friend again. She's fine. I'll go later to check on her. Wanna grab another drink?"

 

***

 

Ian was starting to regret his decision to prolong the torture. After almost an hour it was pretty clear that Ned wanted to get reacquainted with his former lover and that he was sure Ian wanted the same thing. Didn't matter that Ian was clearly trying to avoid Ned's hands on him with all his might.

It was near midnight when Ian couldn't suffer the man any longer. When Ned's hand pressed right on his crotch, Ian jumped to stand up.

He was about to tell Ned that he had a great time with him but he really needed to go see his friend now -alone- when his eyes met Mickey's.

_ Wait.... What? _

"Mickey?" Ian asked dumbfounded. There Mickey was, his raven hair slicked back with gel, tight dark jeans, and a back button up shirt. He was looking uncomfortable as fuck in there but Ian couldn't help but find him so, so sexy. Damn him.

Mickey sneered. "Yeah, you should definitely think of a career as a detective, Firecrotch."

Mickey was acting cocky, but Ian could see right through his bullshit. He was vulnerable and out of place even if he was dressed in appropriate clothing. Everything in him screamed he didn't want to be there.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ian had to ask. He couldn't understand how the fuck had Mickey found him, or why he was there, for that matter. Mickey didn't care.

Mickey seemed to be confused as well, because it took a scratch to the nose and a bite of his bottom lip before he could master all his confidence to tell him

"You have to come with me."

At those words, Ian started to laugh. He couldn't believe his ears.

"Oh yeah? And why should I? I'm having so much fun right now!" Ian certainly didn’t want to let Mickey know he had been readying himself to leave just before Mickey had made his shocking appearance.

Mickey's eyebrow shot to his hairline. "With who? That geriatric viagroid?" He pointed at Ned, who was intently watching the altercation between the two. "What's up with you and grandpas, anyways?"

Ian had forgotten about Ned until Mickey had taken notice of him and looked back to see the man standing up. Clearly Ned was the one having the most fun, because he put a hand on Ian's lower back and shamelessly checked Mickey out, undeterred by Mickey's menacing aura.

"Hey, if this is a lovers quarrel, may I suggest we all go to my hotel room and make peace?" he suggested with a grin.

"What?" replied Ian and Mickey in unison. Ian moved away from Ned enough to free himself from the man's hand.  

"Yeah. I mean, I have eyes. If your boyfriend wants to join us..."

Mickey moved swiftly. He was about a foot from Ned when he asked aggressively. "Huh? What did you call me?"

Ned opened his mouth to reply, obviously confused. But before a word could come out of his mouth, Mickey headbutted him with enough force to make him lose his balance and fall down, clutching his bleeding nose with his hand.

The sight of blood spurred Ian to intervene. He pushed Mickey away from Ned, shoving him by the chest.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" the redhead spat. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed they were attracting too much attention from the crowd and Ian didn't know if he was more worried about Ned's nose or about Mickey who had just bashed someone in a gay bar. He shoved Mickey again, frustration seeping through his hands.

"Gallagher..." Mickey huffed a breath.

Oh no. Ian wasn't liking Mickey's tone. Mickey didn't belong there, he was making sure of that by fucking girls. He wasn't even interested in Ian. The redhead was feeling anger burning up in him. He needed to vent his frustration, to tell Mickey to go away.

"No. No 'Gallagher'. You have no right to barge in here, knock out Ned and pretend that I-"

Ian didn't get to finish his sentence, because something incredible happened. Ian was completely unprepared, no seat belts on, when Mickey stopped him and his angry ramblings by kissing him.

It was a hard kiss, made only of lips against lips. It only lasted a matter of seconds, but it was enough to take Ian's breath away. When Mickey pulled back, Ian closed his eyes and leaned down on instinct to pursue the kiss, but he didn't succeeded, because Ned's voice came through and disrupted this shining new bubble that had formed between him and Mickey.

They both looked at Ned, who was talking with a security guard, pointing at the couple. Ian felt a shiver down his spine, and not a good one. He saw Mickey nodding towards an EXIT sign. Ian nodded too as a response.

Mickey was the first to move. Ian glanced back at his bloody companion and mouthed "sorry" to him, before following Mickey and getting the hell out of there.

They ran to the exit and pushed it open. They never stopped moving until they reached the perfectly patched up Viper. Ian first embraced the hood of the car muttering some tender, apologizing words to the machine. He was so happy to see her like he remembered. Then he looked at Mickey, who was still huffing and coughing. Too many cigarettes and zero to no exercising were bound to catch up with his stamina, sooner or later. Ian on the other hand was still fresh and breathing regularly. Not hearing any shouts from some security guy chasing after them, Ian smiled.

"Look at you. You're fucking exhausted, Mickey."

Mickey showed him the finger. "Yeah, well. Excuse me for preferring sleep over running marathons like your ass."

Ian chuckled. He leaned against his shoulder. Mickey didn't flinch.

To say Ian hadn't stop thinking about the kiss from the moment it had happened would be an understatement. No one was in the parking lot, the only sound they could hear was the muffled noises coming from the bars and clubs around them. They were alone. And Ian wanted so much to prove to himself that the kiss had not been a dream; that Mickey was there and had kissed him

"Next time I'm taking you on my morning jogs," Ian said with a grin.

Mickey scoffed. "Sure. You try that stunt, I'm gonna crash your skull."

"Oh really?" Ian leaned closer to Mickey, to the point where the shorter guy found himself entrapped between the car and Ian's body.

"Really," replied Mickey, not moving an inch away from Ian. The redhead knew by now how much Mickey liked to feel that pressure against him, but he could also tell that this time it was different. They were face to face, their chests tightly pressed against each other.

"And if I kiss you? You gonna crash my skull as well?" Ian asked, looking down at Mickey's lips.

"You ain't gonna know if you don't try," answered Mickey with a cocky grin. Yet it was easy to notice all the insecurity that was hidden in there.

"Yeah?" Ian could feel Mickey's breath against his mouth now, they were so close. He looked into Mickey's eyes, before settling his gaze on his lips.

"Yeah..." was Mickey's reply before Ian could capture his mouth with his. The stiffness of Mickey's lips went away when Ian deepened the kiss by pressing a hand against Mickey's neck. Mickey let out a moan and that was all it took for Ian to get aroused. That was the third time Ian had initiated a kiss with Mickey and the first time he had succeeded. He savored Mickey's taste with his tongue. It was a mixture of cigarettes, sweets, liquor, and just Mickey. Ian was feeling overwhelmed by him, surrounded by his smell, his taste, his heat. Ian wanted so much more now. He needed it so badly.

Another moan and Mickey's hand going straight to massage his crotch, told Ian that Mickey needed the same thing.

"Wanna go in there?" Mickey asked, almost breathless. He was nodding towards a dark alley, but Ian was having none of that. He was not going to have dark alley sex. He wanted a proper environment and damn his erection that was so eager to accept Mickey's proposition.

"No," Ian managed to say. "We're going to my place."

Ian's tone was so set that Mickey opened his mouth to retort, but he closed it the second later. He bit his lips, but nodded.

Without any more words exchange, they climbed into the car.

 

***

 

"C'mon, Mickey, I swear my bedroom is not going to eat ya." Ian let out a fake exasperated sigh.

Mickey flipped him off while taking off his scarf, which was not an easy task, by the way. Mickey was using the same hand to give the finger _ and _ moving it around to disentangle his neck from the wool texture. Ian could only find him adorkable. Which was strange, considering the redhead had been angry as hell with him just an hour before.

"Yeah, I know that. Thank you very much." Still, Mickey wasn't crossing the threshold of Ian's room. Ian couldn't really understand the reason, but he knew that for the other guy it was quite a big step. He had never before been in Ian's apartment and their encounters had been mostly on campus or in Mickey's frat house, which was pretty much a public place considering all the people Ian had always seen in there. Now Mickey was in Ian's world. Ian guessed it was something close to intimacy for Mickey.

"So? Just come inside," Ian said, throwing his coat on the chair.

Mickey smirked. "Thought you knew I prefer the other way around," he said and entered the room. He looked around until his eyes settled on the bed and licked his lips.

"See? You're still alive. Good job, Mick," Ian joked. He reached for Mickey to take off his coat and put it with his own on the chair.  "And yes, I prefer the other way around too."

Ian rested a hand on Mickey's cheek, who flinched at the first sign of a caress, but he didn't swat Ian's hand away. Taking it as an invite, Ian leaned in to press a soft kiss to Mickey's forehead, temple, nose, cheek. He felt the brush of Mickey's eyelashes against his skin and sighed. When his lips came closer to Mickey's, however, the shorter guy hastily took a step back. Ian looked at him surprised. Even though the lights were off, the moonlight was enough to let Ian discern the battle that was going on in Mickey's mind by his face. He was confused and scared, but there was also that tinge of curiosity and desire that made Ian realize that it was up to Mickey to take the next step.

He remained in front of him, arms ready to embrace him the moment Mickey took action. Mickey bit his bottom lip and looked up to meet Ian's eyes. Mickey's own were dark and moved to settle on the redhead's lips an instant later. His eyelids closed the same moment his hand went to rest on Ian's neck. Mickey urged forward, locking his lips with Ian's.

The first kiss had been hard and fast, more a statement than an act of passion. The second one had been initiated by Ian, it had been horny and compelling, reflecting Ian's need for reassurance. The third one was the kiss that Ian would never forget. Ian's arms went to hug Mickey tightly, with no intention of letting him go any time soon. Mickey seemed to share the same opinion, because he pressed himself against Ian's body, resting his other hand on Ian's lower back. Ian could feel that Mickey was into it like he was and Ian wanted to prolong the kiss even more, but the room had become steamy hot and they _ needed _ to take off their clothes. Ian was the first to break their kiss and he could swear Mickey fucking whined, closing again the distance to resume their kissing.

"W-Wait..." Ian stammered, reluctantly pulling away a second time.

"What," Mickey snapped. Ian couldn't help himself, he had to grin. The irony that Mickey had always been the one refusing the kisses and now he was annoyed that Ian interrupted one didn't go unnoticed. He took off his shirt and went back to kiss him, leaving enough space between their bodies to unbutton Mickey's black shirt.

"This looks so good on you, Mick," Ian murmured against Mickey's lips.

"Whatever, just-just take it off." Mickey was thoroughly losing himself in the kiss, he wasn't even trying to undress himself or Ian and left the redhead to do it. Ian was not going to complain. Actually he parted his lips and let Mickey take control of his mouth. The shorter guy was maybe not an expert in the field, but the enthusiasm he was pouring into it made up for the lack of practice. Ian didn't know kissing could be so good and he had had plenty of it in the past.

He managed to take off Mickey's button up shirt as well and he pressed their unclothed chests together, their hands roaming on their skin. He could feel his skin burn under Mickey's touches and he wanted to feel them everywhere down his body.

Ian walked the dark-haired guy towards the bed until his knees bumped against it and they fell on the mattress, Ian on top of Mickey. Neither of them wasted any time as they started grinding against each other. They were both erect and horny as fuck as the layers of clothing became a rather obnoxious disturbance.

Their grinding became deeper and faster and Mickey let out a loud moan. "Okay, that's it. Get the fuck outta your pants." Mickey said abruptly, clearly not able to take it any slower. Ian couldn't agree more. 

They pulled away from each other only to take off their pants. Mickey let out an exasperated groan watching Ian still struggling with his jeans and rushed to his aid, taking off his pants and socks together and threw them away on top of their scattered shoes.

They were now stark naked in front of each other. It was not the first time it had happened, but it was the first when Mickey didn't just turn his back to Ian and bended over. Instead he went closer to Ian and kissed him again. It was as if after the first kiss now Mickey couldn't live without having his lips on Ian's. Ian was not going to complain. He was quickly becoming addicted to the taste of Mickeys mouth.

Ian resumed their previous position, grinding down, eliciting a grunt from Mickey who followed Ian’s movements.

Mickey's hands wandered from Ian's neck to his ass, pulling it closer to his hips and Ian decided he couldn't wait any longer. He blindly moved his hand to open the bedside table drawer and grab a sleeve of condoms and lube. Mickey's breath hitched with anticipation. Licking his lips, Mickey spread his legs, giving Ian space. Ian smiled, noticing that Mickey wasn't looking directly at him, but kept his mouth shut. Joking with Mickey telling him he was behaving like a bashful bride on her wedding night didn't seem like the right choice for the moment. Instead he leaned down to kiss him on the jaw and moved down his body, scattering open mouthed kisses on his throat, on his chest down to his belly button. Mickey's breath became heavier the farther Ian went down and he shivered with anticipation when he heard the sound of the bottle of lube being opened.

Ian adjusted himself in the middle of Mickey's spread legs, leaving a trail of wet kisses on the inside of his thighs. He had no intention of indulging too much, though. He was in a hurry, he wanted to get inside Mickey as soon as possible and he was pretty sure Mickey was of the same mind. He slicked his fingers with lube and pressed a finger against the rim of Mickey's hole. He felt Mickey clenching around it, but relaxing the moment later. He pushed the finger inside and, deciding to be compassionate, he used his tongue to lick at Mickey's tip. Mickey's cock was throbbing and his heavy breathing resounded in the silence of the room. Mickey sank the fingers of one hand into Ian's hair, pulling him a little more towards his crotch. Ian licked a long strip, from the base to the top and Mickey arched back. Ian definitively appreciated how much responsive Mickey was.

Ian entered with a second finger. By the third, Mickey was a complete mess under him, his hole stretched and slicked, precome was leaking from his angry red cock. Ian pulled out his fingers, causing a whimper to escape Mickey's lips. Ian sat on his knee, Mickey was again looking at him, expectantly. Ian tore off the condom from its wrapper and put it on his dick, using what was left of the lube on his fingers to lubricate himself.

Mickey pushed himself on one elbow, as if he wanted to turn around. But Ian didn’t let him. Not this time.

He pushed Mickey back on the mattress and set himself on top of him. He leaned down to peck on his lips

"Like this," Ian murmured softly, but determined. He wasn't going to accept any of Mickey's bullshit. Mickey, for his part, didn't give any. He followed Ian to capture his lips with his own and wrapped his legs around Ian's hips, locking them up by the ankles.

"Have it your way then, Firecrotch," grumbled Mickey, before resuming their kiss. Ian chuckled against his lips. The laugh, however, didn't last long. As soon as he pushed inside that tight warmth, Ian closed his eyes to only _ feel _ . After a while, the kiss became sloppier, until it ceased. Their movements had become too erratic, their breaths too heavy to continue kissing.

It didn't matter. Ian had wanted to kiss Mickey for so long, but even the sight of Mickey coming apart under him was something he had so longed to see. Now there Mickey was, his eyes sometimes closed for the pleasure, other times opened and fixed on Ian's. Mickey was beautiful. Pale skin, warm and sweaty, swollen lips so red they seemed bloody. Ian stared at Mickey, trying to imprint that moment into his memory, but then he felt his climax approaching and his teeth sank down to Mickey's neck, burying his face there. Mickey clenched around him, his arms pulling him so tight against himself that Ian thought he was going to melt with him.

"Ian..." murmured Mickey. Ian didn't last much further after Mickey said his name. He came hard, spilling inside that warmth, filling up the condom. Mickey wasn't that far behind, coming right after Ian.

They kept their positions for a while, neither one of them able to move. Their breaths mingled with one another, their eyes still on each other's. It was probably one of the best moment of Ian's entire life, on top of Mickey, wrapped around each other. He leaned down to kiss Mickey one more time, before pulling out of him and rolling on his back. He removed the condom, tossing it in the little bin close to the bed. They had been so close that Ian was feeling fucking cold now and covered them with the blanket in a hurry. The gesture reminded him a little of the first time they had sex. But now it was so different: Ian was in his own room and Mickey seemed too sated and tired to leave the bed. Not that Ian would've let him..

Their eyes met and Ian knew Mickey wasn't going anywhere for that night. He smiled softly, before kissing Mickey's shoulder and closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You could almost look at this chapter as the end of part I (of 2) :)  
> Right, for the final part I listened to Lover's spit by Broken Social Scene. Dunno if it's of any help!
> 
> AAAAAAAnd thank you so much QueenThursday! my lovely beta <3


	17. Breakfast Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fucking right you keep your mouth shut," he threatened while chomping on the pastry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so. Sorry I'm late!  
> Aaaand, this chapter is partly unbeta'd, so you should be safe for the first part of the chapter!

Ian was woken up by his radio alarm. 7:30 AM, time to go for a run. That was his usual routine during the weekend. Wake up, go for a run, have a shower, eat, and take his breakfast of champions with meds as a side-dish.

This morning, though, Ian wasn't even remotely considering going for a run. His mind was set on doing something much more pleasurable than jogging for exercise.

Just thinking about what had happened the previous night was making him smile like an idiot and he didn't fucking care. He was happy as a clam and he still couldn't believe Mickey had kissed him. So, so many times.

Ian opened his eyes and turned around, to gaze a little at Mickey. He had been wondering what Mickey would look like asleep for some time already and yes, if that made him a creep it was okay because he really wanted to know if Mickey drooled on the pillow or not, or if he preferred to sleep on his back, side or stomach. Ian would've sworn that they had fallen asleep close together and that he had felt Mickey's warmth against his chest during the night. When Ian had woken up, though, Mickey must have had rolled over the other side of the bed, because there was no body pressed against his.

When Ian turned around, however, there wasn't any sleepy Mickey to gaze at.

Ian felt a cold shiver running through his spine and blinked twice to make sure he was really alone in bed.

"Fuck."

Had he dreamed it all? Hadn’t Mickey come to get him at the Back End (really, how the hell had he found him there first place?) and kissed him?

No, c'mon. A dream can't be that vivid, can it? And no. Ian was not going to believe he had had a psychotic episode, what the fuck. Hallucinations had never been beautiful as last night had been.

Ian scoffed. An empty room in the morning only meant one thing: Mickey had bolted.

Well, what was he expecting from Mickey? The kiss had already been something close to a miracle.

Yet, the way they had fucked on that same bed had made Ian believe Mickey would've stayed for enough time to greet him at least a good morning and _ then _ disappear.

A noise coming from the bathroom, however, caught his attention. Something had fallen down and a harsh curse had followed. That was not Alan's voice.

The smile returned on Ian's face and he put a hand on the side were Mickey must have slept. It was still warm-ish. Now he could get back to being happy, borderline stupid. Ian relaxed and took out his phone to snap a selfie. He critically looked at the picture and decided he wasn't half bad, his eyes were just a little puffy but otherwise he was still a handsome ginger. He tested his breath resting a hand close to his mouth. Well, it stank, nothing surprising there, Ian could only hope Mickey wasn't going to complain.

He closed his eyes. He thought about fakingstill being asleep so as not to scare Mickey. Discovery channel had taught Ian how to behave with wild animals, especially when they used aggression if they felt threatened. Ian figured with Mickey he might need the same approach.

He was waiting for his compacted grizzly bear to come to bed, when he heard two doors opening at the same time. One was the bathroom door, the other was...

_ Oh, fuck. _

Ian had told Alan to scram yesterday night. He had texted him in Mickey's car, telling him that unless he had wanted to assist to a live gay porn, his suggestion would have been to lock himself in his room. Ian hadn't actually specified for how long.

Still, Ian wasn't hearing any sounds. Alan was not an early bird, he was probably walking with closed eyes to the bathroom. Maybe he hadn't even noticed Mickey and Mickey would've let him pass without creating a fuss.

"Who the fuck are you?!" Ian heard Mickey snarl.

_ Yeah, right. _

Ian scrambled out of bed. He was wearing only his boxer and he doubted Mickey was more covered, judging by the quantity of clothes still scattered on the floor. He opened the door and he found himself in the exact scene he had been fearing.

An almost naked Mickey had grabbed Alan by his shirt and had attached him to the wall. Alan was way taller that Mickey, but the shorter guy clearly had the upper-hand and Alan looked scared. Mickey had him pressed against the wall and he was about to throw a punch before Ian intervened.

"Mickey, stop!" Ian shouted. He shoved Mickey away from Alan, hurrying to rescue his friend. Mickey bumped against a wall but he was ready to go again. Ian's glare stopped him from trying, though.

"Hey, Al. You alright?" Ian asked his roommate, who nodded, now definitely calmer.

"Yeah. I just wasn't expecting my journey to go pee to be so hard today." He yawned, then looked at Mickey. "So that's him, huh?"

Ian nodded and was about to reply, when Mickey walked behind him in a hurry. As soon Ian heard him rummaging through the clothes on the floor, Ian went after him.

"Mickey-"

"The fuck does he mean 'that's him', have you told him about me?" Mickey was pulling up his pants. It was obvious that the he was going out.

"No," Ian lied. "I only told him about some guy, I guess he did the math."

"Oh, you guess?" Mickey growled. "Now he fucking knows!"

"But he doesn't care!" shouted Ian. He wanted to stop Mickey from running away. He wanted the other guy to understand that it was safe in there. But judging from Mickey's look he was too scared to even consider the possibility.

"Oh, he doesn't care" Mickey mockingly replied.

"I really don't!" Alan shouted from the bathroom. Ian rolled his eyes. His friend was not helping the situation.

"Well, then. Everything's fucking peachy innit?" Mickey didn't even bother to put his coat on and was now heading for the door.

"Mick, please stop..." Ian plead

"What? You want me to stay here? Forget it- No, actually I'm done. Done." He opened the door. "Done."

Mickey slammed the door behind him and all Ian could hear now were his fast steps down the stairs.

Ian put his hands on his face, sighing.

"Fuck..."

Everything had been so good. Mickey had slept with him, literally. He was fucking sure they had even cuddled through the night. Mickey had kissed him, for fuck's sake. And now... puff! Mickey was _ done, done, done _ . Whatever that meant.

The bathroom door opened and Alan came out. He found Ian still by the door.

"Is he gone?" he asked.

Ian nodded. "Yeah... Apparently having someone walk in on him still half-naked after he'd spent the night with a guy was too much to bear for him."

"Sorry about that," Alan said.

"Not your fault. He's too fucking scared, I guess."

Alan gave him a half-smile. "Well, nothing surprising there, considering what you'd told me."

Ian huffed a breath, walking towards his bedroom. "I dug my own grave, didn't I?"

"Well, he's cute, I'll admit that. In a very rough around the edges way." Alan was trying making him feel better and Ian appreciated that. "I'll hit the shower. Are you going for a run, now?"

Ian shook his head. "No, I think I'll just crawl in bed and cry for a while."

 

***

 

There Ian was, curled up in his bed. The soothing sound of the shower wasn't making him any calmer. He needed to see Mickey, but then what? There was nothing he could really say to make Mickey change his mind.

To think that not even half a day had passed since Mickey had made his appearance at the Back End. Their sex had been mind-blowing. No, not just that. It had been something more than physical, there had been feelings involved. Mickey had held onto Ian, looked at him the whole time between kisses and moans. It had to mean _ something _ . Ian was sure of that and Mickey must had felt it too.

It didn't matter, though. Right now, Ian was the only one lying down on the bed. He didn't even know where he was standing with Mickey. Ian had broken off their deal the night before, but then Mickey had come to get him and kissed him and now Mickey had taken off telling him he was done.

_ Argh _ , Ian was so confused. Probably he should have gone for a run, to clear his mind or whatever. At least he still had to go to a rowing session in the afternoon. He would have had less time to think about Mickey.

Alan had finished his shower and had gone back to his own room. Ian decided to have a shower himself and drown his sorrows under the water spray. It had been years since the Gallaghers had had to use cold showers because they couldn't afford to pay for the heating, but Ian would still enjoy the warm/boiling water he was now able to wash himself with every time. It managed to take his mind a little off what had happened not even an hour before.

Problem was, the second he got out of the shower he started to think about Mickey again. He brushed his teeth lost in his thoughts.

When the doorbell rang, Ian had just finished dressing himself with a pair of sweats and a plain shirt. He still had to make coffee, eat something and swallow down his damn pills, then be sad again. Ian buzzed in whoever they were. It was always good to have a distraction. Jehovah Witnesses and Mormons included.

There was a knock on the door and Ian went to open it. Who he saw in front of him caused Ian to stand there, slack-jawed.

There Mickey was, in all his lip-biting, eyes-averting, nervous glory. The dark-haired guy was standing in front of Ian, chewing his bottom lip bloody. He was carrying with one hand an opened take-out coffee in holder, with three cups of coffee in it, and with the other one a paper bag from the coffee shop Ian would usually go with Mandy.  

"Yeah, uhm. I went to get breakfast," muttered Mickey after he noticed Ian wasn't going to speak first.

He woke Ian up from his daze.

"I can see that." Ian cleared his throat, not entirely sure what to say. "Huh, thanks?"

Mickey nodded and Ian moved aside to let Mickey in the apartment. Ian didn't know how Mickey wanted to played it out, but at least he was back, with breakfast nonetheless.

Mickey followed him to the kitchen and there remained until Ian realized that Mickey was too nervous to be able to comply even the easiest things like putting down the coffee and pastries. Ian took them from his hands and put them down on the counter.

"So, I guess the line was pretty long?" Ian asked.

"The what?"

"The line at the coffee shop. You've been out for like an hour." Ian cursed himself internally when Mickey looked at him with such a guilty expression. Why couldn't he just shut the fuck up? Mickey was there, it didn't matter if he had had to take his time to sort out whatever he was feeling.

"I also had to, huh, take a shower at the house, so..."

"Yeah, I get it."

Mickey nodded, finally waking up from his daze and taking out a few pastries from the paper bag. "The other kid is still here?" he asked.

Ian first thought was to defend Alan, but the fact that Mickey had brought three cups of coffee made him think that maybe Mickey didn't want to kill his friend.

"Still in his room. Want me to call him?"

"Yeah, cause I brought breakfast," muttered Mickey, his bottom lip now swollen by the continuing chomping on it.

"I know." Ian was just now discovering how shy and nervous as fuck Mickey was. Adorable.

Ian left Mickey to go knocking on Alan's door. Alan came out in his sweats and a book in his hand.

"What is it?" he asked, taking off his reading glasses.

"Mickey's here," Ian announced. He really didn't know how Alan would react. He had seemed pretty scared when Mickey'd pressed him against the wall, but after Ian had intervened and Alan had been released, he hadn't look particularly worried, maybe due to him being in a zombie-like sleepiness.

Alan pokes his head to see Mickey in the kitchen. "It seems that way. So, what do you want?"

"Mickey brought breakfast."

"And that interests me how...?"

"For you too."

Alan's expression was shaped in complete and utter confusion, but he shrugged it off. "Okay, give me a sec." He closed the door and Ian returned back to Mickey, who in the meantime had taken off his coat and, well, nothing else. He was a fidgeting little thing and Ian couldn't help but grin.

"Yeah, keep grinning," Mickey grumbled. He opened his cup of coffee to throw in it like four small sugar bags.

"That's a lot of sugar," Ian had to say, because he was incapable of keeping his thoughts stuck in his head. He didn’t fucking want to scare Bambi Milkovich away.

"I like it sweet."

"I'm sweet." _ Damn you Ian, shut up! _

But, against all the odds, Mickey scoffed. "No, you're an obnoxious motherfucker."

"More like a grandpafucker," Ian joked. It was so nice to see Mickey relaxing bit by bit.

"Ew, Gallagher. I want to drink the coffee not spew it out."

They heard footsteps and Mickey stiffened again. Alan arrived in the kitchen, wearing jeans and a dark gray sweater.

"Did you bring any doughnuts?" Alan asked, going to sit at the stool near the counter.

Mickey took a maple glazed doughnut from the bag. "Yep." He looked at the doughnut with a sort of longing. Ian would’ve bet that that was the pastry Mickey had intended to feast upon. Alan must have caught on it too, because he took the doughnut from Mickey's hand before Mickey could decide to throw away all his efforts of politeness over a sweet.

Mickey looked fairly astonished at Alan's boldness. Sure as hell there weren't many people on campus who would dare that much. To Ian's surprise, Mickey didn't do anything but scoffing. It appeared Mickey was half-way to Nirvana that morning. Ian instead waited for Mickey to choose an eclair before picking his own pastry. God, so much sugar, Ian was starting to regret not having gone for a run.

Mickey sat on the other stool and Ian rested his pretty ass directly on the counter, since the available stools were already occupied.

They started eating their breakfast in silence, nobody really knowing what to say. Or, in Ian's case, he had to stop himself from blurting out how happy he was that Mickey had decided to come back, especially in front of Alan. Mickey was fidgeting, sometimes opening his mouth to say something and closing it again with a mouthful of eclair. The one who was really, totally relaxed was Alan who, after having established Mickey wasn't gonna crush his skull any time soon, was still keeping his mouth shut simply because he didn't feel the need to. Well, except after he kept noticing Ian and Mickey sending heated glazes to each other probably thinking they were subtle.

"Okay," he said, after finishing his doughnut. "I need to know: is this gonna be a regular thing or what?" Alan waved from Ian to Mickey.

Mickey, who was trying to be as nonchalant as possible sipping his remaining coffee, spluttered on the table. At the same time Ian pushed his hand against Alan's mouth.

"What the fuck, Al?!"

"Well, I want to know if I'm gonna find again the guy in the apartment," Alan justified himself, while Mickey was still coughing.

Red as a lobster, Mickey turned to look at Alan. He stretched out his arm to grab him by the neck. "You try telling someone, I'mma fucking kill you."

This time, Alan didn't seem too fazed by Mickey's homicidal stance. He sighed. "Listen, I don't really care and I wouldn't even know who to tell. So you can be _ friend _ as much as you want with Ian here."

Mickey looked stunned and released the grip. He remained without words for a few seconds, before taking his eclair and finishing it in a mouthful. "Fucking right you keep your mouth shut," he threatened while chomping the pastry.

Ian sighed in relief. It seemed no one was going to die in the apartment that day.

Mickey appeared more relaxed now, with food in his belly and the knowledge that Alan was not a threat. That didn't mean that Mickey was completely at ease. He didn't touch Ian and he didn't speak if not to say "yes" and "no" in case he was asked. Alan was never the talker, so Ian decided to be silent too. To start having a conversation with an empty cup of coffee didn't seem a healthy thing to do.

"Well, I have to go now," Alan said, getting up. Ian frowned. Alan would never go outside the house so early in the morning on a weekend.

"You got a study group?" asked, following him to the bedroom. Alan was putting on his coat when he scoffed.

"No, I don't. I just need to leave the two of you alone and read in silence at the library. Maybe you haven't noticed, but I keep on receiving 'go away' vibes from your friend there."

"Really?" Ian hadn't noticed a thing, but he had been more preoccupied on catching 'I'll kill you' vibes from Mickey.

"Yeah, really. So, since I'm the only sane person here -and no, I don't mean you're bipolar, I mean you're a dork- I'm getting away from here.In the meantime I beg you to make him feel comfortable around here asap cause I'm not disappearing every time he visits."

Ian would never know why, but he felt his cheeks flushing. "Y-yeah. Sure."

Alan nodded. He went back to the kitchen greeting goodbye to Mickey and he was outside, leaving Ian and Mickey alone.

The magic happened. Mickey appeared much more relaxed now, actually managing to look at Ian directly in the eyes.

"So, we alone now?" he asked. He got up to trash the remaining of their breakfast.

"Yes. He has to meet with his study group."

Mickey nodded. "No one else coming?"

"No one. We have the house for ourselves for a few hours."

Mickey licked his lip. "Good. You wanna fuck?"

Ian snorted. It was always so incredible how Mickey could be so blunt when it came to get down to it, but such a scaredy-cat whenever something more than fucking was involved.

"Sure, gotta piss first. Use the time to take some of your clothes-" Ian didn't even finish the sentence that Mickey was making a beeline to the bed. The redhead smiled and went to the bathroom to take his pills.

 

***

 

"Well, you took your sweet time, Firecrotch," a completely naked Mickey reprimanded Ian. The redhead was not going to tell him he had wanted to wait out the immediate side effects of his meds.

"You'd rather keep on complaining or you want me to fuck you?" Ian put his hands on the shirt, raising the hem just slightly. Mickey licked his lips. Ian noticed the dark-haired guy was already hard, he had probably touched himself while Ian was in the bathroom. Fuck, he liked to see Mickey that way, naked and lustful. He could see the bruises and hickeys he had left on his pale skin the night before and the fact that Mickey was laying on his bed just transformed the sight in a vision.

"Whatcha think?" Mickey asked, pressing a forefinger on the tip of his cock.

Ian let out a shaky breath. Since he was a dork, he had to comment, though.

"I think you only need a red bow around your cock and you'd be my perfect early birthday present."

Mickey gave him the finger. "Fuck off. I'm not a fucking gift."

"You are to mankind."

Mickey limited himself to held his middle finger high in the air.

"Yeah, yeah. I just went ahead. Why the fuck are you still dressed?"

He didn't take long for Ian to shed off his shirt and sweats. The boxers followed soon after.

"When is it, anyway?" Mickey asked in a low mumble.

"What?" Ian put a knee on the mattress.

"Your birthday, fuckhead."

Ian looked at him in surprise. "You really wanna know?"

Mickey rolled his eyes "No, I don't. But since you're taking so goddamn much to get on me, I tried fill the gap with fucking conversation."

Ian scoffed and went on top of him. Mickey tried to move, but Ian pressed his body-weight against him. They both huffed out a loud moan when their hips touched.

"I'll tell you if you'll tell me," Ian suggested. Like he didn't already know. He wasn't Mandy's best friend for nothing.

"Told you, I don't fucking care." Mickey switched them off, being now on top of him.

Ian arched an eyebrow. His facial expression was not as communicative as Mickey's, but it could totally convey his disbelief. He flipped them off and Ian was again on top of the shorter guy.

They were both breathing heavier, because their continued movements had them touching each other's body again and again. Ian was hard and Mickey looked down at their pressed bodies, licking his lips.

"Okay, I'll tell you anyway, since you wanna know so badly," said Ian, drawing Mickey's attention on him. Mickey's eyes were now flicking from his eyes to his lips. Ian leaned in, kissing Mickey slowly. Mickey parted his lips for Ian's tongue to enter. The kiss lasted some moments, before Ian pulled back. "September 29th," he whispered against his lips. Mickey's hands were roaming on Ian’s sides, his thighs opening to let the redhead adjust better in the middle. The fact that Ian had been able to tell him his birthday's date, was something close to a miracle.

"And mine is August 10th, now will you fucking get on me or do I need to send you an invitation to my fucking future birthday party?"

Ian was almost telling him that yes, it wouldn't be half bad, but Mickey prevented him by kissing him again, this time longer and deeper. "Enough chit-chat, Firecrotch," he whispered against Ian's lips, before licking them and pushing his tongue inside. Ian decided he could totally shut up and get to the dirty part.

"Turn," Ian softly commanded. He gave him one peck on the jaw and moved away from Mickey to let him stand on his elbows and knees.

"And here I thought you wanted to smooch some more," Mickey commented in a snort. "Glad you're finally getting to it."

Ian smiled and loudly kissed Mickey's asscheek. "Can still smooch your ass."

Mickey's chuckle faded out as soon as Ian's tongue lapped at his rim. A moan was left instead. Ian spread his ass, spending a few seconds to look at his fingers digging into that perfect pale skin. The rolling shutters at the window were up and the sunlight was pervading the bedroom. It was corny as hell, but Ian was really enjoying touching Mickey's skin bathed in the light.

Ian licked a second time and he felt Mickey relaxing under his ministrations. He sucked at his rim and Mickey immediately pushed back. Mickey's body was always so responsive. Ian loved it. He pointed his tongue and pressed it inside, eliciting a grunt from the other guy. Ian didn't find much resistance, so he pinched at Mickey's ass.

"You came here already prepared?" he asked with a hint of amusement.

Mickey buried his face against the pillows. "Told ya I took a shower..."he muffled.

Ian nodded happily and got back to work. Even if Mickey was already stretched out, there wasn't any real reason to quit the rimjob. Not when it gave pleasure to them both.

But Ian didn't want to finish Mickey off that way. He detached himself from Mickey to go rummaging in his bedside drawer. The lube was there but, shit, where the fuck were the condoms?

"You see any condoms?" Ian asked. "They must have fallen somewhere last night."

Mickey sighed in frustration, but started to look around to find the godforsaken condom wrappers. They wanted to play by themselves, not at hide-fucking-seek.

"Found them!" Mickey exclaimed and Ian was taken in by the sight: Mickey with his ass wiggling in the air while fetching the condoms from under the bed.

Ian thought for only a quarter of seconds before giving in and slapping Mickey hard on the ass. "Good job!". As soon as he came to his senses, he wondered if it had been a good idea. Or A very bad one? Ian didn't know, but the temptation had been too much.

He only received high eyebrows from Mickey and he felt giddy and confident because the man hadn't responded with a fist straight to his face. Ian took one wrapper and rolled the condom on his dick, giving it a few strokes smeared with a drop of lube.

"Hands on the headboard," said Ian and Mickey accomplished. So there Mickey was, hands on the headboard, spread thighs and his pièce de résistance ready for Ian. The redhead used his lube-slicked fingers to stretch him a little more, but Mickey's enthusiastic thrusts back suggested him that Mickey was good to go. He pushed inside, causing them to moan in unison. Ian put a hand on Mickey's hip in a bruising grip and the other right on top of one of Mickey's. To steady himself, sure. Once again Ian noticed the just barely there dark shadows on Mickey's knuckles. Ian interlaced their fingers together and rocked further into Mickey, bottoming out. He rested his forehead against Mickey's back, giving Mickey the time to adjust. Apparently the other guy didn't need it because he clenched around him and thrust back, inviting Ian to move.

They started slow, Ian's hips rocking against Mickey. Ian shifted his hand from the hip to the abdomen and began kissing Mickey's back, from the nape to his shoulders, right in the middle of the shoulder blades. For every deep thrust Ian sucked at his skin, leaving a mosaic of hickeys. He heard Mickey's soft moans when he grazed with his teeth and Ian thought that was the rhythm he liked: slow but passionate, full of touches and kisses. Mickey seemed to agree, at first. Until he turned his head and captured Ian's mouth in his in a searing kiss.

"Get a move on," he breathed against Ian's lips.

Ian could only carry out his duty. The hand he had resting on the abdomen went back gripping Mickey's hip. The thrusting became quicker and Ian almost pulled out, only to slam himself inside the moment later in a deep, hard thrust. Soon the headboard was rocking following their rhythm and Ian hoped to God no one was sleeping on the other side of the wall.

Mickey let out a loud grunt and Ian knew he had found his prostate. He kept hitting his sweet spot and Mickey reached around to grab at Ian's ass. It was enough of a leverage to pull the redhead deeper into him and Ian muffled a moan sinking his teeth into Mickey's shoulder.

"I'm gonna..." Mickey groaned, his knuckles white from gripping with suck force at the headboard. Ian was also close to reach the climax and left Mickey's hip to stroke his leaking shaft in unison with the thrusts.

Mickey was the first to come, stimulated as he was by both sides and Ian pistoned into him for a bit more, before following him into orgasm. He shot his load in the condom and Mickey gave him little time to rest on top of him, until his knees gave up and they both sank on the mattress.

Ian got rid of the rubber before resting on his side, contemplating Mickey from under his eyelashes. Mickey's chest was heaving fast, the man trying to regain his breath. He was stretching his fingers in the meantime and Ian's eyes were captured once again by the almost invisible smudges on the knuckles. By now, Ian was pretty sure they were faded tattoos and he wanted to ask Mickey about them, but with him, well, one may never know how'd react. Maybe there was written ‘I-<3-COCK’ and Mickey didn't want anyone to know. Ian highly doubted it, but he still didn't know if it was safe to ask.

Almost as if Mickey had been reading Ian's thoughts, he held up both his hands. "Just ask, Ginger."

"Can I?" Ian looked at him surprised

"Not a big secret."

"Are those tats?"

Mickey nodded. "Yeah. Well. They were. I got a laser removal. I just never went to the last session." Mickey traced his tattoos first with the forefinger of one hand and then with the other. "FUCK U-UP."

Ian snorted. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, man. Got wasted when I was a freshman and I woke up with these. I even thought they were kinda cool." Mickey scoffed "That is, until I got home and dad beat the shit out of me and got me laser appointments."

"Oh."

"I can't exactly go into politics with a curse on my knuckles."

"True," Ian convened. "But you didn't eliminate the tats completely."

Mickey covered his hands under the blanket. "Laser removal sucks. They're practically gone, so I decided to skip, no big deal."

Ian decided to nod, but he was sure there was a deeper meaning behind it. Mickey was deeper than he let on. He was layer on layer of complexity, starting from a rough edge, skin hard as steel, to finish in what Ian hoped was a soft core.

Maybe Mickey kept the fading tats as a small rebellion against the father, maybe he didn't. For the moment Ian was already happy that Mickey had shed some more layers with him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always thank you QueenThursday <3
> 
> Got any questions? Wanna chat?XD my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	18. Oh Mickey, you're so fine you blow my Lollipop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was shocking how easily Mickey seemed to fit in Ian and Alan's living room with his cussing and belching. They were watching a Seagal movie that he imposed because it was 'one of the best movies of the last century' in his opinion and Mickey knew almost every word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.

_ OH, MICKEY, YOU'RE SO FINE . YOU'RE SO FINE, YOU BLOW MY - _

With a grunt, Ian pressed his fist on the button of the radio alarm, causing the catchy song to stop.

"..."

His brain caught on the lyrics with a discreet delay and Ian finally recognized the song. Immediately he turned on the radio.

_ OH, MICKEY, WHAT A PITY YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. YOU TAKE ME BY THE HEART AND YOU TAKE ME BY THE HAND _

With the song 'Hey Mickey' by Toni Basil, Ian woke up with a huge smile on his face. The fact that he had to stay up until late the night before because of midterms wasn't showing on the redhead, who felt full of energy because, frankly, he was quite happy.

_ OH, MICKEY, YOU'RE SO PRETTY, CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND? IT'S GUYS LIKE YOU, MICKEY. _

Ian got up and stretched a bit. He felt his bones creak with a certain satisfaction. The sun was shining and spring was approaching.

_ AND WHAT YOU DO, MICKEY, DO, MICKEY. DON'T BREAK MY HEART, MICKEY _

The redhead took out his running gears. He changed his boxers and put on the sportswear. With light feet he went to the bathroom.

_ OH MICKEY! _

 

***

 

Was Ian manic? No, no, and NO.

Ian had just spent the last two weeks kissing Mickey without having the guy complain, or worse, kill him. Well, when in private, obviously. Mickey seemed to have taken a liking to fuck face to face too, much to Ian's delight. Their encounters were being held at Ian's place for the most part. On a fucking bed. Not that the janitor's closet had been abandoned, that would've been a pity.

So yeah, Ian was simply feeling happy because Mickey was making him happy.

Shuffling through his songs while running, Ian realized that he didn't have 'Oh Mickey' in his playlist. He so decided to choose 'Lollipop' by Chordettes that had been put there by his younger brother Carl, who had insisted that if 'Cherry Pie' was about virgin's pussy, Lollipop was the anthem song about sucking your boyfriend's dick. Ian didn't really know if those four acapella girls were seriously singing about how much they liked to perform oral, but he thought that, all in all, the song was just right for his mood.

_ AND WHEN HE DOES HIS SHAKY ROCKIN' DANCE, MAN I HAVEN'T GOT A CHANCE. _

Mickey rocked, alright. Now that their sex positions were not limited like in the closet, they could explore more and Mickey was an enthusiast little sexy thing. And since that the kiss taboo had been lifted, Mickey had no trouble letting Ian hear all his moaning. More often than not Mickey would let Ian fuck him slow and deep, engulfing Ian in a tight lock made of arms and legs. Two nights before Mickey had scratched so much at Ian's back that the redhead now sported red marks on his skin.

Ian licked his lips. Mickey being so earnest was something he loved. He had always been straightforward with what he liked during sex, but it had always been under limitations. Now Ian would fuck him looking at Mickey in the eye and he knew the shorter guy fucking loved it.

_ I CALL HIM LOLLIPOP LOLLIPOP OH LOLLI LOLLI LOLLI LOLLIPOP LOLLIPOP _

 

***

 

During English Lit, Ian couldn't care less if Shakespeare was a man or a woman, gay or straight, pansexual, bisexual or whatever, or even if he was rich or poor, or a pen name or God knows what. Ian's entire focus was Mickey's lollipop -pardon, cock. He didn't even notice that he was sucking on his pen. As soon as he did, Ian put the pen down and adjusted his pants, uncomfortably. He was actually glad when Mandy started talking to him because he was in serious need of a distraction.

"Were you thinking about sucking something else than a pen?" Mandy asked. She wasn't going to give him even a tiny bit of a distraction, of course.

"Mandy, what the fuck?" Ian whispered. He was thankful they were seating in the furthest row.

"Oh, c’mon, Ian. You never talk about him, but I know something's up. In these past two weeks, I think. and I bet it's your Mistery Guy," she replied convinced.

Ian rolled his eyes. As expected, Mandy had noticed his recent good mood. Ian wanted to tell her everything, so fucking much, but he knew he couldn't. At least not until Mickey said so.

"Well, you're right. But you know I can't tell you who he is."

Mandy sighed. "I know, I know. I still think it's stupid but okay. Just... tell something to your best friend in the whole world. Throw her a bone to chew on."

She smirked and Ian couldn't help but do the same. "Oh, alright. I think, you know, that he's interested in me."

"Does he have that look in his eyes?"

Ian snorted. "You and that fucking look. He has lots of looks, the fuck do I know which one is the right one? Sure as hell he gives me some horny looks sometimes..."

Mandy giggled. "Well, horny looks are important as well. And you look so fucking happy, Ian. I hope that fucker knows how lucky he is to have you so whipped up."

Ian smiled.

"How did that happen anyway? You were so gloomy because of him before," Mandy continued.

"Oh..." Ian's cheeks reddened a few shades. "He kissed me. He had never done that before, so..."

Mandy bumped their shoulders together. "Well, good for you! Now you can smooch as much as you want."

Not as much as Ian wanted, maybe. But it was certainly a good start. Mickey was coming tonight at Ian's and the redhead had every intention of making out a little before going down and dirty on him.

"It's so not fair, though," Mandy huffed a breath. "You get all happy with your guy and my asshole of a brother is having some steamy hot sex with his girl. What about me? I'm the cutest between you two and my deepest relationship right now is being a fag hag."

Ian would've even laughed at Mandy's self-definition, but the part about Mickey captured his attention more.

"His girl?" he managed to let out. "You met her?" _ Fuck _ , was Mickey doing a girl too? Ian was quite persuaded that Mickey was totally gay by now, but what if he was still banging chicks on the side to held up appearance?

"What? No." She shook her head. "No, but he is too like all happy 'n shit. Well, in his case he's less bitchy and grumpy. But I called him like last week and when he answered he was... I think he was with her. Never knew that a guy could mewl." Mandy laughed to herself.

At those words Ian visibly relaxed, since he was the girl who had made her brother fucking mewl.

_ "Shit, it's Mandy again," Mickey grumbled. He closed the lockscreen again and put his phone on the bedside table. _

_ "So?" Ian was feeling guilty as shit for not telling the truth to his best friend, but that didn't mean that he wanted her to distract Mickey from relaxing and enjoy the foreplay Ian was setting up before going down on him. _

_ "She usually never calls twice in such a small gap of time." Mickey laid down better on the mattress, giving Ian all the space he could between his spread legs. Ian grunted, going back to lick at his inner thigh. "I mean, it's weird, you know." _

_ "Then fucking call her back," he snapped. To make his point, Ian bit where he had been licking. _

_ Mickey flinched, but then shook his head. "Nah, bitch must knows her place." He made his decision and relaxed, resting his hand on the red curls on top of Ian's head. Ian loved feeling Mickey's fingers caressing his hair. Or pulling them when he was taken by pleasure. Actually, Ian just loved the feeling of Mickey's finger on him. Period. Ian smiled and sucked at the bite mark. Mickey moaned. _

_ And Mandy called. _

_ "What if it's something serious?" Mickey asked to a deeply annoyed Ian. Still, if Mickey was worried, maybe something had happened to Mandy and Ian would've jumped in to help her. _

_ "Just fucking answer, Mick," Ian burst out. Mickey decided to comply. _

_ "What," snapped Mickey at the phone. Ian was still, trying to understand what was happening. "No, I don't know where your fucking weed is." _

_ Ian rolled his eyes, deciding that the weed's whereabouts was not on top of the emergency list. He went back to work and, since the foreplay had gone out of the window, it was time to go straight to the point. _

_ "Why should I-" Mickey let out a surprised groan as Ian took him in his mouth. He shoved Ian's head back, but it was all for nothing. Ian was holding his position and he started to bob up and down Mickey's cock. "There's no one here- Oh fuck!" _

_ Ian smiled around Mickey's erection, enjoying the problem Mickey was having at keeping his moans back. Well, Ian was having none of that. He used the tongue just how he knew Mickey liked it. He felt Mickey shivering under him. _

_ "Skank... why the fuck should I lie to- mhn- you?" Mickey managed to say. Ian was pretty sure he wasn't fooling Mandy one tiny bit. To make sure of it, Ian slicked one finger with the mixture of saliva and precome that was drooling on Mickey's balls. He waited for Mickey to be in the middle of a sentence. _

_ "Fuck you, what do you-" Ian swiftly proceeded to push the finger inside Mickey at the same time he went to deepthroat him. The sound that the shorter guy produced was so close to a mewl, that a very embarrassed Mickey immediately closed the call and threw the phone far away on he floor. Ian pulled out with his mouth, letting a grin appear on his smug face. If looks could kill, the one Mickey gave Ian at that moment would've whacked Ian straight away. But Ian survived and, after licking along the underside of his cock, went back to suck him again. Mickey didn't even try to stop him. _

"Well, I can make guys mewling just fine," Ian grinned. The smile rested on his face for the whole lesson.

 

***

 

Ian didn't even need to smile for Sam to know what was going on. They were in the library, studying for midterms, when Sam broke the silence.

"Someone's here is giving it on the daily, huh?" Sam observed. "Must be nice."

Ian was not even surprised that Sam had recognized all the signs. The guy could smell sex from a mile away. Still, he had always made Ian feel uncomfortable because Sam's gaze would always set on his crotch.

"Yeah, Sam, eyes are up here."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Anyway. Is your new boytoy Sanchez? I didn't even know he was gay."

Ian looked surprised. "Sanchez? No, why?"

"Why? I saw you two together with Milkovich. He was beating up the poor guy! I wanted to call security but what if Mickey had spotted me? I already tried his fists, no thank you." Then he was quick to add. "But I'm so glad your pretty face is still intact!"

Sam had probably mistaken Sanchez getting beaten up as fag-bashing. Ian actually wanted to defend Mickey's honor, but what was he supposed to tell? That Mickey had beaten the crap out of Sanchez because he’d lost once again at poker?

_ It was pretty dark already and Ian and Mickey were going to Ian's place. Ian only wanted to relax a little and then fuck Mickey senseless in bed. That seemed like a perfectly good plan. _

_ What happened instead was Sanchez. He was coming in their direction, looking at his phone, when Mickey shouted _

_ "Hey, Sanchez!" _

_ Immediately Sanchez looked up to see Mickey coming onto him like a fucking rhino. He turned to run, but it was too late. Mickey caught him and swung his fist straight against Sanchez's gut. The poor guy dropped like a sack of potatoes. _

_ "What? I don't deserve a simple hello?" Mickey said and kicked him again against his belly. _

_ "Mickey what the fuck?!" Ian exclaimed. He shoved Mickey away, enough for Sanchez to stand up, but not so much to prevent Mickey from going at Sanchez again.  He blocked the Sanchez guy against a wall with his arm pressing at his chest. _

_ "Sanchez, you know you can't keep losing, if you don't have the money," said Mickey, locking eyes with the guy. Ian didn't know if it was wise to separate them or just let Mickey do whatever he needed to do. _

_ "Yeah, I know. Sorry Mickey, it's just that my father is not giving me that much allowance anymore and-" _

_ "What? You scared of telling your daddy?" Mickey mimicked his voice. "I don't fucking care. I've already told you months ago. You don't pay, you're gonna make sure your father listens to what mine has to say." _

_ Ian could see the panic growing in Sanchez's eyes. _

_ "I-I can't, Mickey. If he knew I lost so much money... I can't!" _

_ "I don't fucking care. How can you call yourself a man if you shit your pants at the though of facing your fucking father? You do it, or next time I won't be so lenient." _

_ Ian knew it was not the right situation to make Mickey notice how the same sentence could be applied to Mickey himself. Ian had tried to initiate the Terry topic, but every time, Mickey had shut down. Ian had decided to let it go, at least for the time being. Mickey was too beautiful in his arms to ruin the moment by talking about his damn father. _

_ "But he's gonna disown me!" Sanchez cried. _

_ "And I'm gonna put your six feet under, your fucking choice." _

_ Mickey shoved the guy once again against the wall. He pointed his forefinger at him. "Next time I see you, you better have told your daddy." _

_ Sanchez only managed to nod before running away. _

_ Mickey sighed, leaning against the wall. _

_ "You think you got your point through?" Ian asked, getting closer to Mickey. The shorter guy put a hand on Ian's chest to keep him at a safe distance, but he also rested it there . _

_ "Hope so. That guy is a pain in the ass." Absentmindedly, Mickey started fumbling with Ian's coat’s buttons. _

_ "Mhn. Wanna experience something better in your ass?" _

_ Mickey chuckles. "That’s such an awful pick-up line, seriously man." _

_ "I've already picked you up." Ian shrugged. "And I really, really want to get under the blankets. It's getting fucking cold, c'mon." _

_ "Are the blankets the only thing you wanna get under?" Mickey asked, wiggling his eyebrows and causing Ian to laugh. _

_ "Yeah, cause that is not an awful innuendo, huh?" _

"I don't know what happened, I just found myself in the middle of it all," said Ian. "And no. Sanchez is not the guy I've been seeing."

"So who is your bae? Milkovich?" The thought made Sam laugh so hard that he got immediately shushed by the other students in the room. Ian only wanted to wipe off that smile on his face by telling him the truth, but he only forced himself to smile as well.

 

***

 

When Ian came back home, he was greeted by, well, no one. There were two people in the living room and both of them were too focused on battling each other on Mario Kart to pay attention to the redhead.

"Yeah, eat my dust, man!" Mickey was sprawled on the sofa, his socked feet comfortably resting on the coffee table among empty beer cans. It looked like he was ahead of Alan. His roommate wasn't saying anything, he was frowning and following attentively the game. Ian knew by now Alan was a sneaky motherfucker. He would stay silent, letting you think you might win and then...

"BOOYAAA!!!"

Alan exclaimed, getting up and throwing the joystick on the sofa. Ian smiled, he was used to his modus operandi, but Mickey apparently hadn't made peace with it yet.

"You cheated!" Mickey shouted. He seemed ready to attack him, but he resolved in crossing his arms sporting an adorable pout on his lips that Ian wanted to kiss away. Of course he was not going to do that. Not that he wouldn't want to, but Mickey had still to get used to the idea of kissing in front of Alan. It had happened once, though, and Alan had made it out alive.

_ "You sure Half Kimchee is not here?" Mickey asked in a whisper against Ian's lips. _

_ "God, Mick. You really have to use that slur?" Ian asked, but he didn't stop his hands from roaming on Mickey's bare chest. _

_ "He's half-Korean, right?" Ian rolled his eyes. "Where is he?" _

_ "Library," the redhead replied. Satisfied with the information, Mickey relaxed again under Ian's touches, leaning in to engage him in a deep kiss pulling Ian by the neck. Ian smiled in the kiss, closing his eyes and meeting Mickey's tongue with his. He loved Mickey's taste. _

_ Mickey adjusted himself to make Ian more comfortable on top of him and they soon found themselves dry humping like a pair of teenagers. It was even a nice feeling, but it seemed quite a waste seeing that they had the apartment to themselves. _

_ "Fuck. Just-just fuck me," Mickey murmured, inviting Ian by grinding harder against his crotch. _

_ "Here?" Ian asked surprised, but not completely opposed to the idea. _

_ "Yeah, here. Got condom and lube in the bag." Mickey nodded to the bag thrown on the floor. _

_ "Always the boy-scout, huh?" Ian stretched out his arm and reached for the bag. He rummaged through it one second before finding the two, much needed objects. _

_ "Whatever." The shorter guy was already unzipping his pants. _

_ Ian chuckled, before kissing Mickey again. He wanted to make out some more before going to the fucking. Mickey was at ease with kissing now, but only if it lead to sex, so Ian was set on prolonging the moment as more as possible. Not that he didn't want to fuck Mickey, but he had discovered himself to be addicted to kiss those dark pink lips. _

_ Mickey was eager in the kiss, moving his hands down Ian's back, hot against his fingertips. They were so taken by feeling up their bodies and mouths against each other's that they didn't notice a partly Asian presence by the kitchen, who was watching the scene in bemusement. _

_ "Really? The couch?" Alan shown himself to the guys deeply entangled with each other on the sofa. Ian could've even laughed at the scene, but he froze thinking about the reaction of the guy under him. Mickey had wide eyes with a look of deep terror in them. He got up, shoving Ian to the other side of the furniture. _

_ Before any of them could say anything, Alan opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water. "You should check my bedroom before thinking you have the house to yourself, Ian. I was skipeing with my mother. Think how she would've appreciated hearing you two getting on to it." _

_ It seemed Mickey was in such confusion that he only opened and closed his mouth to say something, but he didn't emit any sound. Ian was ready to get up, but Alan waived his hand dismissively. _

_ "You two can do whatever you want, but please, not on the couch. The couch is only for television's stuff. And I don't mean porn." Alan gulped down some water. "Anyway, going back to my room. I think you should do the same." _

_ Not receiving any replies from either Mickey or Ian, Alan made his way back to his bedroom, leaving the two guys alone and quite shocked. _

So yeah, Alan survived and Mickey and Ian never touched the couch again for anything that wasn't related to television activities. Ian would knock on his roommate door to make sure he wasn't there before going to fuck Mickey's brains out and a weird, but functional relationship had been building up among the three students.

The episode had never been brought up and Mickey had been trying to make himself appear the most mainly as possible in Alan's eyes. Alan needed help with the beer cap? There Mickey was, opening it with his teeth. Once Alan had chosen a horror movie and Mickey had tried to laugh at the scariest scenes and be cool as shit even if Ian had noticed how Mickey would sometimes give up a little jump.

And now there they were on the couch, Mickey having just lost at Mario Kart without killing Alan for his victory. The shorter guy took a sip of his beer and that's when he noticed Ian standing at the front door. He smiled and Ian had to refrain himself from melting in a poodle of goo right that instant.

"Hey, Ian," greeted Alan, sitting down to reset the game. "Do you wanna play?"

Ian shook his head. He knew that he was shit at Mario Kart comparing with the two. He instead picked a half full can of beer and was ready to chug it down when Mickey stopped him by grabbing his arm.

"We just ordered pizza. Wait to get something in your belly first."

It was not the first time Mickey had interrupted him from drinking alcoholic. Ian had noticed Mickey watching him like a hawk when Ian would dare touching a second bottle of beer. Ian understood that since the night of the accident Mickey thought of him as a dangerous drunkard, but sometimes the shorter guy was so wary of Ian drinking that the redhead only wanted to tell him he wasn't going to wreck his damn car another time.

"Okay, I'm going to change," Ian decided to play it out. If Mickey was more comfortable with him not drinking, Ian wouldn't drink. It was important for Mickey to feel at ease in a new environment, not so different from an  adopted cat in a new home.

"Yeah. Got still time to play another game with the nerd here," Mickey replied. Alan rolled his eyes, but he soon focused his attention on the race.

 

***

 

It was shocking how easily Mickey seemed to fit in Ian and Alan's living room with his cussing and belching. They were watching a Seagal movie that he imposed because it was 'one of the best movies of the last century' in his opinion and Mickey knew almost every word. Ian watched him mouthing quotes in the darkness of the room and he found him endearing. He moved a hand close to his thigh, but Mickey immediately scooted to put some distance between them. Alan knew about them but it was not enough for Mickey to be okay with Ian touching him when they weren't completely alone. Still, that wasn't enough to discourage Ian, who would 'accidentally' bump their shoulders or whisper some lewd words in his ear.

By the beginning of the credits, Ian and Mickey made a run for Ian's bedroom.

 

***

 

When Alan was home, they would keep quiet, muffling their moans against each other's mouths. The first time Mickey had had sex with Ian knowing the roommate was in the other bedroom, Mickey had taken a lot to loosen up. Now Mickey seemed even more excited and he'd accept slow fucking instead of fast and hard (and loud) without throwing a fit. Ian was sure enough to bet that Mickey actually pretty liked going slow, he just couldn't bring himself to admit it.

Even this time they took their damn time, Ian on top of him, kissing every inch of the skin of his back, sometimes moving up to gently bite at his earlobes. Mickey's face was against the pillow, trying hard not to emit a loud moan that was threatening to escape his lips at any time. Ian gripped hard at his hips, thrusting deeper into him. Mickey started stroking his cock, desperate for a release that came a few minutes later. Ian followed him,then pulling out and removing the condom.

Ian laid on his back, turning his head right to watch Mickey still on his stomach, slowly getting back his breath. He leaned in to kiss Mickey on the temple and the shorter guy let him.

Once he had regained his breath, Mickey rightly decided to purify it by smoking a cigarette. He passed it to Ian after a couple of puffs.

They just had their second round and they were happily relaxed. But Ian's smile disappeared when Mickey got up to get dressed.

"Going already?" asked Ian, giving him a sad pair of puppy eyes.

Mickey scoffed. "Yeah. It's 1 am, you know. Have to get some sleep."

Ian sighed. After their first time in Ian's bed, Mickey hadn't spent another whole night at Ian's. Ian suspected that for Mickey it was another step towards intimacy and he was still not ready for it. It was all baby steps with the dark haired guy, but if that meant that in the future Mickey would've felt comfortable enough to held their hands together in public, Ian could cope with it. By now he knew Mickey cared about him and that entire night in bed together had been one demonstration.

"Okay. See you tomorrow then," Ian replied.

Mickey nodded, visibly glad that Ian hadn't tried to coerce him to stay. As a compensation, before opening the door Mickey leaned in to kiss Ian on the lips, lingering there for a few seconds. Then he was out.

Ian closed his eyes and licked his lips, going fast to sleep.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!  
> If you wanna chat or you have any questions: my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	19. The plus one arithmetic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and unbeta'd. Here it is!

"Yeah, I'm taking the plane as soon as classes end. Mh. Carl we've already- Carl I told you I can't ask... No, _ you're _ a pussy." Ian sighed, listening to what his younger brother had to say on the phone. "You know what? Okay, just add a plus one, sure. Yeah, a plus one with a dick... What the fuck Carl, I'm your older brother, a little respect here! Oh, I'm so going to make a hell of a speech at the ceremony, wait for that you little shit."

Ian hung up his phone, throwing it on the couch. He looked at Alan, who was trying very hard to mind his own business by faking to read a book.

"Hey, my dear, dear roomie Al. Wanna come to my brother's wedding as my plus one?"

Alan was still feigning to be engrossed in the book.

"Al, the book is upside down."

Alan closed the book with a hint of shame expressed on his face.

"Not a chance, Ian. Your family's gonna think I'm your beloved. Not to forget you said it's going to be a big wedding. So no, thank you." Al shook his head. "Why don't you just try to invite your real plus one?"

Ian scoffed. "Yeah, I'm sure Mickey will be enthusiast at the idea of meeting my fucking family at a wedding. He'll even be the first in first line for the throwing of the bouquet."

"Ian, it's not going to be like when you invited him for New Year."

"You mean, like he's gonna come?"

"No, but at least he won't eat your face this time."

"You sure?"

Alan took a little time before answering this time. "No, not really. But hey, it's your fault for liking someone like Mickey."

Ian was tempted to snap at him, but what could he say? Alan wasn't wrong. The truth was that Ian actually wanted to invite Mickey. Just the other day he had had a dream where Mickey was arm in arm with him meeting Fiona and the others (which then evolved in a wet dream with them having a go at it in the hay). Awake, Ian knew it wasn't healthy to imagine such a sappy scenario, but he'd be lying if he hadn't already pictured Mickey all naked in his old bedroom.

It was worth a try.

"Right. Mickey's gonna come by for dinner. I'm sure your online friends will love to have you on World of Warcraft by that time. I'll save you some Thai for later."

Alan rolled his eyes but Ian would bet he was actually glad he didn't have to be around when Ian would drop the bomb.

 

***

 

By 8 o' clock PM, Ian didn't have any more nails to bite and he had emptied his packet of cigarettes. Why the hell had he decided to tell Mickey? It was such a bad, bad idea. They were in a good place, why ruining it? Ian wished he could have had just invited Mandy, but she was all happy because some of her girlfriends at the dorm had invited her on a spring break vacation. Ow, Milkoviches were such a headache for Ian.

Yet, Ian knew the reason why he was set to ask Mickey. He wanted to test Mickey's reaction. He needed to know how much/ if they had improved in their kind of relationship.

When Ian heard a knock on the front door, he rushed to open it. At the sight of Mickey with Thai food Ian smiled with profound satisfaction. Two of his favorite things together. Just perfect.

"You went to the Golden Mountain, good boy," Ian grab the bag from Mickey's hand. He put it on the coffee table. He could feel Mickey rolling his eyes from behind his back.

"Yeah, cause last time you refused to eat your damn pad thai."

Ian turned his head to look at Mickey, vaguely confused and a bit moved. "You did it for me?"

Mickey's eyes widened, like he had been caught doing something bad.

"Yeah- No. I mean. I just didn't want you to bust my balls another time cause 'Golden Mountain is the best!'" he mimicked Ian, trying to look the most casual as possible. But Ian already wanted to perform the dance of happiness, or at least to invent it.

"Dungeons and Dragons not here?" Mickey asked to change the topic.

Ian nodded towards his bedroom. "Absorbed in some online games, earplugs and everything."

"Good." Mickey looked happy to be alone in the living room with Ian and grabbed the first white box, ready to devour the content.

Ian chose the movie 'No country for old men' that, guess what, was set in Texas. He went to sit close to Mickey, but not so much that the other guy's intimacy alarm would set off. He started with his pad thai, emitting moans full of pleasure while he ate.

"Jesus Christ, Firecrotch. Want me to give you two some room?" Mickey asked, a grimace on his face.

Ian snorted, elbowing him a little in the side. He refrained himself to reply something like "are you jealous?" which would've probably spooked Mickey off and Ian couldn't have that tonight.

They were around the first quarter of the movie, when Ian started playing with the fork in his hand.

"Fucking desert, man," Ian commented.

Mickey nodded. "Yeah, I went to Mexico with my family years ago. Fucking sand everywhere."

"Oh. And you ever been to Texas?" Ian asked, pointing at the movie with his cutlery.

"Never."

Ian left a little pause before going for the second question "And huh, to a wedding?

Mickey stilled for a second. He put his beer down.

"... Gallagher, aren't you from Texas?"

"Huh. Yeah."

"Right. When's your brother wedding again?"

If Mickey's tone hadn't been so menacing, Ian would've gloated because Mickey had actually listened to his ramblings about his family. Be as it were, though, Ian felt like he was standing on a mine field.

He cleared his throat. "During Spring break."

Mickey nodded, thoughtful. "To answer your question. Yes, I've been to weddings and they suck. If I can help it I try to avoid attending to them."

Ian's eyes were turned to the television, but inside he was a little turmoil. There was it. Mickey had given him a way out. Ian hadn't need to ask him to come with him to Carl's wedding because Mickey had already answered for him. Mickey had said No in the most civilized way he could master and Ian should just accept his tacit refusal and go on enjoying the evening.

But then, how could Ian just let it go?

"But what if I invite you as my plus one?" Ian asked, looking yet again at Mickey, who rolled his eyes and sighed.

"What the fuck is wrong with ya, Gallagher? Do I have to spell it out? I won't go with you to the fucking wedding!" Mickey's voice raised up, but the shorter guy was still trying to keep it down.

"Why not!" Ian couldn't help it. He had to ask.

"Why not? Are you fucking retarded? I go with you, what will people think?"

"It's my family, Mick. They don't fucking care if we're together they-

“What you say?”

Mickey jumped up.

“Huh?”

“We're not- Fuck, why do you always have to put a fucking label to...”

“Us?” Ian suggested, defiantly. He stood up, towering over Mickey with his height.

Mickey looked at Ian. He lowered his eyes.

“There's no 'us', Gallagher. We hang around, we fuck. I like it. Why ruining this?”

“There's more to it!” Ian couldn't believe his ears. “Why you keep denying it?”

“Fuck you! I don't deny shit!” Mickey went straight to the door. “Call me again when you wake the fuck up.”

Ian wanted to reply, to put some more gasoline on the fire, but Mickey slammed the door behind him. He sighed. It all went down just as he had expected, so why now would he feel so disappointed?

 

***

 

Because he _ was _ fucking disappointed. Because he had really, secretly hoped that Mickey would've surprised him by accepting the invitation. It was true that Ian needed stability in his life, but having Mickey always so in denial was a constant he didn't desired.

At his family home, he had been greeted with warmth and they all had lifted up his spirit with the excitement of the final touches to the preparation for Carl's big day. Soon Ian had been too taken with helping where he could that he managed to forget about Mickey. Or at least, thinking about him without feeling so bitter.

The day of the wedding arrived and Ian decided that he was going to put all his thoughts of Mickey aside, enjoy the ceremony and just be happy. Fiona had told him that at first she had been against the wedding, what with Carl being so young, but in the end Cassie was always at their home anyway, and she felt like it was not going to be that much of a change. Ian hadn't tried to extract the real truth from her, because he already knew that Fiona had become very protective of Cassie in the last few months and she wanted to take her away from her father's grasp as soon as possible.

Ian was getting dressed in front of a mirror for the occasion. He had been appointed as one of the groomsmen by Carl. His little brother had decided to make one of his friends his best man not to make any preference between Ian and Lip, his groomsman too.

Carl, who had been out with his friends for his bachelor party and hadn't seen much of Ian until the wedding day, came closer to the older brother with a grin.

"Who knows, next could be you," he said.

Ian scoffed. "I think the next is gonna be Fiona."

"Next to be engaged then. Sure as hell is not going to be Lip." Carl looked at himself in the mirror to fix his hair. "So, They told me you didn't bring your plus one with dick."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Yeah, just me. Sorry about that."

"Nah." Carl shrugged. "It's just that you've been so chipper on the phone for the last few weeks. We thought you had found someone."

"It's... I mean, there's someone. But we're not serious." Then he had to add. "Yet."

"Well then maybe he can come for Fiona's wedding!" Debbie shouted from the half closed door, which  she then promptly pushed open, revealing herself, Emily and Fiona.

"We were just passing through!" Fiona put her hands up in a gesture of surrender. Emily mimicked her right away.

Ian sighed."Yeah, whatever. You're lucky Emily is too cute." And she really did look cute with her dress matching the mother and aunt's ones.

"Sure sweetface, we were already feeling threatened," Fiona mocked him. She looked at Carl. "You get ready. It's starting soon."

Carl nodded. He looked so calm and sure that-

"You high, Carl?"

His younger brother soon to be married chuckled. He gave Ian two thumbs up and exited the room.

 

***

 

It didn't come as a surprise that the wedding was full of happenings. The ceremony started in the most traditional way, in the church chosen by the Richards, with an angelic children's choir singing and the guests being silent in reverent respect.

Things started to change as soon as the priest declared Carl and Cassie man and wife and they could kiss. Carl took Cassie's face between both hands and he proceeded to get his tongue in her mouth in a deep, dirty kiss for everybody to see. It didn't come as a surprise that the husband's side of the church started laughing and whistling whereas the wife's was slack-jawed in horror.

The party was being held in a huge tent on the Gallagher's propriety. Inside there was no string quartet, but a few friends of Carl's that had formed a band just for the purpose of performing at his wedding. They sucked greatly but they appeared so enthusiast that nobody had the heart to tell them the harsh truth. When Carl entered with his bride they started playing a cacophonous version of Cherry Pie, which was saved by some of the guests singing along. Cassie rolled her eyes at that, but her smile was so big that it was impossible for her to dissimulate her happiness. She actually decided it was time to take off part of the gown, remaining only with her white corset and the white, puffy underskirt. Everyone could see her tattoos showing proudly on her bare skin.

Then, the moment where the pandemonium began. Cassie's father had just finished toasting to the newly married couple. He had tried so hard to be as happy for them as he could, even going as far as inventing stories of Carl deep involvement in charity events, but what he saw after raising the glass was his daughter happily drinking champagne. When he told her she shouldn't drink when pregnant, she only shrugged and informed him that she wasn't expecting a baby anytime soon.

Thomas didn't waste time to think, he stood up and pounced on Carl, ready to strangle him. It was thanks to Ian and his forced plus one TJ that Cassie's father was tackled down. With tirades and curses, the Richards and their guests left the tent. Cassie tried to keep up her smile, but Carl could well notice she wasn't happy of how things evolved and he remained next to her the whole evening, even dancing with her with very awkward steps.

The band was forbidden to keep on playing and they resolved to put on a playlist that contained mostly rock 'n roll. People hit the dance floor to shake their booties. Ian and TJ too, joking and laughing. Ian was glad to have a friend that wasn't family with him. Ian didn't have an interest in TJ anymore, he didn't want to have sex with him, but it was certainly nice to have someone to be with at a wedding.

When the majority of the guests started leaving, Ian was sitting at a table with TJ, hearing him telling anecdotes of yhe ranch life and they were so funny Ian couldn't stop laughing. He almost didn't hear his phone ringing. Almost.

It was Mickey.

Ian immediately stood up, connecting the call.

"Mickey?"

"Who else?"

Ian rolled his eyes. He decided to overlook Mickey's tone in order to settle things with them.

"Listen Mick, I'm sorry if I tried to force you to come, it's just-"

"Ian, wait."

Had Mickey just called him by his first name on a fucking phone call?

"..."

"... You still there?"

"Yeah, Mick, I was waiting."

"Huh, right. Okay, I just wanted you to know that... This thing is fucking new to me. I don't fucking know what to do."

"What thing."

"Don't make me say it, asswipe."

"What thing."

"... You. Me. Us, I mean, yeah."

"So there's an us."

"Yes. You were right when you said... You know, there's more."

"Yeah, I know."

"Fucking smartass."

"..."

"..."

"Hey, Mick?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for telling me. You made me happy."

"Sure..."

"Okay, I guess I'll see you when I'm back, then."

"What? No, wait, I'm here!"

"Huh?"

"I'm at the fucking Abilene airport."

"You're what?!"

"Abilene Airport, you fucking deaf?"

"... Why?"

"To become a rodeo rider- why the fuck do you think I'm here you twat?!"

"To see me?"

"One hundreds points to Gryffindor. Now go get your stuff. I'll wait for you at the airport, we going on a little vacation, I guess it's a good period as any to visit goddamn Texas."

"Oh. You won't meet my family then."

"Fuck, why do you always- look. Can you just be happy to go on a trip with me for spring break and not bust my balls?"

Ian let out a chuckle.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"You better."

 

***

 

Ian made it to the airport as soon as possible. He had left his family enduring their accusing stares because he was leaving them to go on a trip with his somewhat boyfriend who hadn't even deigned himself to come greet them. But the huge smile Ian had on his face had kind of convinced them to let him go.

Heavily breathing Ian searched for Mickey. He couldn't find him and he was almost thinking that Mickey had joked before and he instead was in Chicago or still in Boston, when a honk captured his attention. Well, a honk plus a

"Firecrotch! Coming for a ride?"

Ian turned around to see Mickey at the steering wheel of a jeep, a cocky smirk on his lips. He couldn't help but smile in turn.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!  
> If you wanna chat or you have any questions: my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	20. Secrets revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, Mick. Tell me a secret," he said, eyes catching Mickey's.  
> "A secret? What for?"  
> Ian shrugged, trying to sound as casual as possible.  
> "I don't know. We could fill the space between sex talking, you know."  
> "There's a tv here. We can mock some loser."  
> Ian snorted. "Not the same thing." He rolled on his side, facing Mickey. They were both stark naked and they couldn't give a damn about covering themselves. "C'mon, tell me a secret."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I think I finally have a clearer idea of how many chapters are left. 
> 
> This is just a happy chapter, no tricks.

The promised ride was postponed to the following morning, since the guys realized it was late and they both needed a good sleep before taking the car.

They decided to take a room at the airport hotel and Ian noticed Mickey start fidgeting.

"I'm going to book the room, stay here," he said, not waiting for Ian's reply.

The redhead watched Mickey going to the receptionist. He saw him worrying his bottom lip, paying with his card and coming back to him with a key.

They didn't say anything to each other until Mickey opened the room. A room with just one size queen bed. Ian started to speak, but Mickey forestall him by blurting

"They, huh, didn't have double bed rooms."

Mickey was biting his lip so much Ian couldn't help but smile, all happy because he was a dork like that.

"Bullshit."

Mickey's cheeks reddened a bit and the shorter guy shrugged, not looking Ian in the eyes. "Think whatever the fuck you want," he snarled, going straight for the bed.

"I will." Ian's smile never faltered, it maybe increased more because he was finding Mickey quite adorable. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Okay," Mickey replied, turning the tv on.

"You want to join me?" Ian asked. He started taking off his clothes, knowing he would capture Mickey's attention more than Jeopardy.

As expected, Mickey seemed to forget there was even a television in the room and followed Ian to the bathroom, shedding his clothes along the way.

Ian had him pinned to the wall as soon as Mickey walked in. He didn't waste any more time, leaning down to kiss the shorter guy, who gladly parted his lips for him. Mickey tasted so much like nicotine, he had probably smoked a ton while he was waiting for Ian to arrive at the airport. Their mouths moved slowly but greedy. Mickey's hand was resting on Ian's neck, inviting their kiss to deepen and the redhead's hands were roaming on his skin, feeling all that softness and hardness that was Mickey's body.

"Not fair, you still have your boxers on," Ian whispered against his lips. Mickey scoffed.

"Yeah, cause you attacked me before I could take 'em off."

Ian grinned a lopsided grin. "Let me help you then."

The redhead was fast on his knees, mouthing at Mickey's semi through the layer of cloth. Mickey's breath hitched at the contact. Ian hooked his fingers in the hem of the boxers, pulling them down, slowly, kissing his skin on every discovered inch. He kissed the inside of his thighs and, when Mickey's fingers went to rest on his head, he kissed the tip of his cock.

"Fuck." Ian heard him whisper. Mickey was shivering in anticipation and he was now fully erected. Ian went down on him, starting soon to bob his head, taking him deeper and deeper, teasing him with his mouth here and there. When his nose was buried against Mickey's crotch, he inhaled his smell. He fucking loved his smell, Ian could fucking live with his face pressed to his neck, breathing in his scent. He was becoming addicted.

Ian hummed around his cock, eliciting a deep moan from Mickey.

"C-C'mon. Let's hit the shower," Mickey said with shaky breath. Ian pulled back, getting up. As soon as the water became warm enough, they both went in, resuming their kissing. Ian's hand trailed down Mickey's spine, caressing his ass and going with the middle finger to press gently against his rim. Mickey moaned against Ian's lips, closing his eyes.

"Turn around," Ian whispered, biting Mickey's lips another time. Mickey immediately followed the order, pressing his hands against the Plexiglas of the shower. The redhead took a few seconds to admire the sight, kneading Mickey's ass with both his large hands before sliding a finger in the middle. With the help of the water, Ian managed to prepare Mickey, who wasn't just standing there taking his fingers, but he was thrusting back with vigor.

Mickey went to grab Ian's hair, forcing Ian's head to turn to kiss again, their lips moving sloppily and wet from the shower.

"I'm good to go," said Mickey, who was starting to slide his cock against the glass to get some friction.

When they arrived to the bed, they didn't even care to get under the blankets. Ian went on top of Mickey, who eagerly locked his ankles behind the redhead's waist. They lost themselves in a long embrace, which left them spent and sated.

 

***

 

"Firecrotch, you still awake?"

"Mhn...?"

"I meant what I said earlier, you know."

"That they didn't have any more twin rooms?"

"No, you fucktard, on the phone. That... there's more with us."

"I know."

"Good. Just wanted to make sure you knew that."

 

***

 

**Day One**

 

Warm, gigantic hands were caressing Mickey's pale body, tracing all the planes of his abdomen. Pink lips were mouthing at his balls, and a wet tongue licked from them to the tip of his cock. Mickey was slowly woken up by Ian taking care of his morning wood. And it was glorious.

Ian was bobbing his head, making the blankets above him going up and down following his movements. He smiled around Mickey's cock when Mickey lifted up the cover and watched Ian with eyes still drowsy yet tinged with arousal.

"Fuck. Yes..." Mickey grunted, caressing the red hair with his fingers.

Ian was taking it slow and Mickey took his time reaching the climax. After having swallowed his load, Ian came up to kiss the shorter guy, who didn't refuse to taste himself on Ian's tongue.

"Well, good morning, Mick."

***

"Still have to understand why you decided for San Antonio," Ian commented, looking away from the scenery they were passing through to settle his eyes on Mickey.

The shorter guy seemed so at ease driving the jeep. He was relaxed, with his left elbow resting on the door and wearing those fucking sunglasses that were probably meant to be badass but Ian found so cute on him.

"I just googled something like places to go in Texas and there it was," Mickey replied. "Pass me a smoke."

Ian scoffed. "Seriously? That's so lame." He opened the dashboard to pick a cigarette pack and a lighter, taking one stick out and lit it up. He inhaled it once before giving it to Mickey.

"Well, I don't fucking know Texas, do I?" Mickey said grumpily and causing Ian to chuckle.

"Right. It's okay though. Never been to San Antonio. There's Alamo there, you know?"

"Yeah, like we're gonna go there," Mickey replied with a snort.

"Huh, actually..."

***

Mickey happily belched, giving Ian back the almost empty bag of fries he had devoured.

"Hey, thank you for leaving me some fries," he commented dryly.

"They're bad for your health. I'm looking out for your body, you should thank me."

Ian chuckled. "You should thank me."

Mickey turned his head to gaze Ian's body up and down. He shrugged, feigning complete disinterest.

"It's an okay body. Had better."

Ian opened his mouth in disbelieve, but he noticed Mickey's ill-concealed smirk. Motherfucker.

"Oh yeah?"

Ian grabbed Mickey's hand and put it on his crotch. Out the corner of his eyes he saw Mickey licking his bottom lips. Ian leaned in, getting so close to Mickey he licked his earlobe.

"So, we still got an hour to go, why don't we stop until I make you thank me?" Ian proposed in a low whisper.

There was fucking no one on the street, plenty of enough sheltered places to hide for a little while. It was really a no-brainier decision.

"Show me whatcha got, Firecrotch."

***

"Let me guess, they had only double bedrooms?" Ian asked with a big grin. The room Mickey had booked for them at the hotel in San Antonio was a big ass room with a big ass bed.

"Huh. No..." Mickey tortured his bottom lip with the thumb. "I thought, you know."

Mickey really couldn't say that he simply wanted to sleep with Ian in the same bed, huh?

"Yeah, got it."

***

"Wanna go out for dinner?" Ian asked as he got out from the bathroom.

"If you want to, yeah." It didn't escape Ian that Mickey looked uncomfortable as shit. The thought of two guys having dinner together was probably on his list of 'beacons for gayness' that he had in his mind.

"A nice restaurant, perhaps," Ian pressed. "One with a pianist. I'd like it."

Mickey was probably imagining candle lights and a fucking rainbow colored linen cloth on the table for two, people pointing their fingers at them. Yet he answered

"Uhm... Alright."

Ian let out a huge smile on his face, sitting on the bed.

"Nah, kidding. I'm kinda tired. Can we just order in and stay here?"

He gained a smile from Mickey, who nodded. "Their menus has good reviews."

"Good. Cause we'll need it since I plan on having you naked on this bed for at least twenty four hours."

 

***

 

**Day two**

 

"Wow..." Mickey gasped, his knees completely giving up. He was sprawled on his stomach, his face flushed and his breath labored.

"And you thought it was impossible, huh?" Ian grinned, getting up from the bed.

"I honestly didn't think I could come with just your tongue up my ass, no." Mickey's voice was so relaxed it was almost purring. "Get me some water when you come back."

Ian nodded. He went to the bathroom to take his pills and swallowed them down with tap water. He spun around the orange bottle in his hand and looked at the bedroom with a sigh. Maybe it was time to tell Mickey some truths.

He went out of the bathroom and went to grab a bottle of water for Mickey in the kitchenette.

"Thanks," Mickey said, sitting up and taking the bottle from the redhead's hands. Ian laid down on the mattress.

"Hey, Mick. Tell me a secret," he said, eyes catching Mickey's.

"A secret? What for?"

Ian shrugged, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"I don't know. We could fill the space between sex talking, you know."

"There's a tv here. We can mock some loser."

Ian snorted. "Not the same thing." He rolled on his side, facing Mickey. They were both stark naked and they couldn't give a damn about covering themselves. "C'mon, tell me a secret."

Mickey rolled his eyes, thinking. "You first."

"Oh, c'mon, I asked first!"

"What the fuck ever, you wanna do the talking, so talk."

Ian shook his head but gave in.

"I wanted to be an army officer. A marine, actually."

Mickey looked at him in amusement. "Seriously? Don't officers get shot first?"

"I'm still kinda patriotic, you know. And at that time I would've actually be proud to receive a bullet for my homeland."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I was in junior ROTC and I even got accepted at West Point."

Mickey frowned. "Then what the fuck are you doing in college?"

Ian paused. That was the question he feared, also the reason why he usually avoided talking about his military dreams altogether. Because everything always brought down to one, single topic.

"Because... I left West Point after a few months. I went wild and I, well, did some very erratic things, things that I don't even remember." Ian had already told the story to other people, like Mandy or Alan but revealing it to Mickey was harder than he had thought.

"Cause you're bipolar?"

Ian's eyes widened with shock. Mickey had put the question so easily he could have as well shouted it.

"You're bipolar. Right?" Mickey repeated.

Ian slowly nodded. "How...?" Had Mandy told him? Alan?

"I found your pill bottles in your bathroom cabinet back in Boston."

"Since-"

"Since the beginning, practically. I was looking for an Advil or something and I found your good stash." Mickey scratched his nose. "And I... I looked up the meds online and they were also for schizophrenia or epilepsy but that specific mix and the vitamins kinda gave bipolar away, yeah."

Why the hell Mickey looked more embarrassed than angry or worried about his disease? Because the research online indicated that he cared about Ian? Mickey could really be a dork, sometimes. But that was making Ian hope and it was a nice, warm feeling.

"And, I mean, doesn't it bother you?" Ian asked. Mickey looked so chill, Ian hadn't expected that reaction.

"Yeah, it does. Mostly cause you didn't tell me before. But no, you even joined me at California Kings. You and alcohol? Like giving fucking candy canes to a diabetic!" Mickey shook his head.

"That night it wasn't just the alcohol, I was hypomanic and-"

"That's right. You were and I fucking didn't know, I thought you had taken some drugs and I'm not talking about weed. I was fucking scared. You don't have the driver license and you were filled up with alcohol and drug, going at such a speed we fucking crashed- I had to take your goddamn seat, you fucker..."

Maybe Mickey wanted to add more, maybe not. But Ian's arms moved on an instinct to envelope Mickey in a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered against Mickey's ear.

"You better be. About not telling me before," he grumbled. "Even if I guess it's none of my business..."

Ian hugged him tighter, if possible. Mickey sounding so grumpy and insecure was adorable, and Ian loved so much to be finally able to hug the other guy without fearing for his life.

"It is your business. I just wasn't sure about your reaction." Laugh at him. Tell him to scramble. Indifference. Call him a freak. Fear. There had been so many possibilities.

"Did you like my reaction, then?" Mickey asked, disentangling himself from Ian, but without putting much distance between them. He was looking straight in Ian's eyes. With one hand he caressed the soft, red hair on his head.

"Yeah. A lot." Ian leaned in to kiss him, but Mickey retracted.

"So you don't need to tell me 'look at that strange cloud' next time you have to take your pills."

Ian chuckled. He had done that to distract Mickey when they had been in the car the day before. "You noticed."

"You're not that subtle, Firecrotch." Mickey smiled at him.

"No, I'm not." Ian's smile appeared when he had his lips on Mickey's.

They kissed slowly, but not without passion. Their bodies were entangled, their embrace tight again. Ian wanted to pour all his feelings for Mickey in that kiss, to make Mickey _feel_ them through his tongue, his lips, his body. Mickey seemed to do the same. He moved his legs just enough to have his knees at Ian's sides, never interrupting the kiss.

Ian took notice of his adjustments and he trailed one hand from Mickey's nape to his ass, pressing a finger against his rim.

"Mhn. Don't need it," Mickey murmured against his lips, the breath heavy and eyes closed. Mickey's hand rummaged blindly on the mattress until it found a condom. He opened it with his teeth under Ian's heated glare and proceeded to roll it on Ian's straining cock, already stimulated by the friction given by their bodies so pressed against each other.

"Wanna ride you," Mickey whispered, biting at Ian's bottom lip.

"Yeah?"

"Mhn." Mickey nodded and went down on his cock. Ian had to close his eyes at the sensation. Mickey wasn't moving aggressively, he was riding Ian slowly, pausing when Ian bottomed out and kissing him with what Ian could only define as fondness. Mickey resumed his pacing, never going too fast, letting Ian grip his hips to help him in his movements. Ian was buried inside him, Mickey taking him deep and moan every time Ian pressed against his prostate.

Their kissing became sloppier, the movements more erratic, the space between them only enough to let them breath.

"Mick... fuck," Ian grunted, not being able to kiss him anymore, so close to reach his own orgasm. Mickey bit, licked at his chin, his jaw, murmuring lewd things into his ear, telling him how good Ian felt so deep inside him. It was too much stimulation for Ian, who let go. Mickey followed in the climax not that much time later, riding on his half spent cock, still full enough to give him pleasure. He came hard on Ian's abdomen with a loud grunt.

Ian laid back on the mattress, taking Mickey down with him. It didn't look like Mickey wanted to detach himself from Ian any time soon and the redhead wasn't going to move any further. He just kept caressing Mickey's back, fingers trailing on the sweated, so warm skin.

They rested in peace for some minutes, not a care in the world, completely relaxed and satisfied. Unconsciously, Mickey rested his cheek on Ian's chest, his fingers brushing lightly on it, forming invisible circles.

"I don't really have an interest for politics," Mickey said, keeping his voice a whisper to not interrupt that moment.

"Huh?" Ian kissed his forehead.

"The secret thing, you know," answered Mickey. "I'm majoring in it, but I don't really wanna a career as a politician."

Ian knew that. Mandy knew. It was not a big secret that Mickey was not happy with his major.

"Kinda got that. Your father has chosen that for you, right?"

Mickey stilled, but nodded a few seconds later.

"What would you like to do, then?" Ian asked.

The dark haired guy looked at him, avoiding his gaze the next moment.

"Nuthin'."

Ian chuckled, bumping lightly at his side. "Oh c'mon. Promise I won't tell anyone."

Mickey sighed, resigned. "Okay, but you can't laugh."

"I won't." Ian smiled. "So, what is this big secret of yours?"

"I... I wanted to be an architect," Mickey whispered the last word.

Ian scoffed. "That's it?"

"Huh, yeah?" Mickey's cheeks were flushed red. He looked so embarrassed. The guy really needed to sort out his priorities.

"I mean, why should I laugh?" Ian asked. "It's not like you told me you wanted to join the circus or be a drag queen-"

Mickey elbowed him in his sides, causing Ian to laugh,

"No, actually scratch that. I think you in a corset would totally turn me on. But then you look hot whenever, so..."

Ian's words flow was interrupted by Mickey kissing him hard. "You're such a dick," he commented.

Ian smiled. "I know. But seriously, why should you be shy about it? Being an architect is a cool job... Oh. That's why you're taking calculus," he realized.

The other guy nodded. "Yeah, that's a course I can conceal. First year I even took some more relevant courses for architecture, but Pops discovered it and he told me I shouldn't get distracted by those faggy subjects." Mickey's tone was so bitter Ian had to press his lips against the guy's forehead.

"Guess your father doesn't approve?"

"Absolutely not," Mickey scoffed, with no amusement in his voice. "I remember when I was a kid and they added a new wing to the house in Chicago and there was this architect... He was so fucking cool, you know? He had so many projects under his arms and I didn't know what a blue print was but it looked amazing. My father didn't think the same way, though. The architect was gay, my father forbade me to go around him and he told me that there were jobs that only queers and girls could do. Like being architects." Mickey shook his head. "I swear I don't know where that came from. Pops has his own ideas about what's virile and what's for fags."

Ian noticed that Mickey was starting to get uncomfortable. He wanted so much to make Mickey understand that he should tell his father to go fuck himself. That he shouldn't be so scared of another person, letting him decide for his own future. But he could perceive that Mickey was not in that place yet, where he'd listen to Ian trying to wake him up about Terry Milkovich. So Ian decided to simply drop the topic by making Mickey use his mouth for something else than talking.

***

"Hey, are we still telling each other secrets?" Ian asked with his face stuffed with spicy chicken wings. They comfortably sitting on the bed, watching tv and eating with only their boxers on (more for fear of spicy sauce spilling on their crotches than for any other reason).

"What's that?"

Ian realized he must have talked with his mouth too full to actually convey the message. It had probably sounded like a mixture of chomping and munching than an actual English sentence.

"I asked." He gulped down. "If we're still revealing secrets."

Mickey shrugged. "Don't know 'bout you. I'm finished with that."

Ian nodded, playing with a chicken wing almost absentmindedly. "But if I tell you one is it okay?"

"Whatever."

Ian rolled his eyes, but decided to go with what he wanted to say. "I wasn't going to fuck Ned that night, just so you know," he blurted out.

"Who?" At the mention of the word 'fuck' he had Mickey's full attention.

"Ned, the... Geriatric Viagroid?"

"Oh. That one." Mickey nodded, then he worried his lip. "So. You were not gonna..."

"No. With me and Ned ended ages ago. I just wanted to make you jealous, or angry... I don't know." He smiled with his lips red from the spiciness of the sauce. "Happy you came to rescue me, though."

Mickey's cheeks were flushed pink, but _of course_ it was because of the too hot food. "Yeah, couldn't leave you chocking on gray pubes."

Ian snorted. "Thank you for that, then."

Mickey nodded, going back to devour his chicken wing. Ian was glad he had told him. He didn't want Mickey to think he was fucking other guys aside from him. There wasn't someone else but him.

It appeared that Mickey was having the same idea.

"The thing at the party..." Mickey began once they had finished their food. "I didn't fuck Angie. She started undressing and before we could do anything she was dead asleep. Even if she hadn't passed out, I don't think I'd let her do more than a blow job, maybe not even that. I... I had a couple of girls giving me head back in January and nothing more since- so uhm, yeah. That's it."

Mickey had talked quite fast from his usual speed. As if he had wanted to get that all out the fastest as possible. Ian's smile widened at each word, but he had to ask

"And with those two girls... did you like it?"

Mickey huffed a breath. "A mouth's a mouth, right? Especially when you close your eyes. You can think you got your cock between whichever lips." His eyes lingered for a second too long on Ian, making the redhead understand _which_ lips had Mickey thought of.

Ian's smile became way sluttier. "So... What do you say if I suck you off and you keep your eyes open?"

Mickey chuckled, his face still red. "Okay, but go wash your mouth first, not sticking it in until you clean up that fucking spicy sauce."

***

"Hey, Mick?" Ian murmured in the full darkness of the bedroom. He heard some rustling around the sheets.

"What...?"Mickey's voice was husky from drowsiness, but he opened his eyes to look at Ian.

"You really don't have any questions about me being bipolar?" asked Ian in a low voice. There wasn't anyone else in the room but them, yet Ian didn't want to raise it.

"Never said that," Mickey whispered back.

"So why haven't you asked?"

"Cause some stuff are for you to tell. Not gonna force them outta you." Mickey adjusted himself on his side. "I read some blogs online and I mean, some things are heavy, so take your time, Ian."

"What if I want to tell you now?" Ian came closer, their faces only a few inches apart.

"Then tell me." Mickey closed the distance by kissing him softly, only a touch of lips.

Ian smiled into the kiss. He stretched his hand out to caress Mickey's cheek. Mickey did the same, never stopping looking at him. Maybe someone else could think it was cheesy as fuck, but Ian found the moment just _perfect_.

"Okay," Ian breathed. "When I entered West Point I was so excited. I thought it was because my dream had finally come true, but..."

Ian talked and talked. He told Mickey about his first symptoms, his manic period heavily partying in New York City, his depression, his brother Lip coming to rescue him. He hiccuped when came the part of his hospitalization and his denial and his treatment. Mickey remained silent through the whole story, his hand never faltering from caressing Ian's cheek. He took in every word and Ian lost himself in his eyes. The redhead didn't even remember when he had stopped talking and fallen asleep instead. The last thing he recalled were Mickey's lips against his cheek when a tear dropped from his eyes.

 

***

 

**Day Three**

 

"And this is James Bowie's room. We'll probably never know what happened to the Colonel, many theories are involved..." The guide at Alamo was explaining, when Ian leaned down, his lips close to Mickey's ear.

"They say he got killed by the soldiers. Or he shot himself, or maybe he just fucking died there cause he was too sick-"

Ian's whisper was interrupted by Mickey, who put a hand on his mouth. "I already don't fucking care about what that bitch's saying. I don't need you too to give me a fucking history lesson, you army geek."

Ian chuckled. "Thought you studied American History for your Major."

"Studied?” Mickey arched his eyebrow in a disbelieving look. “You're so adorable."

"Adorable? You find me adorable?" Ian asked. Since the day before he had been so close to become a real puppy dog. Ian knew it was fucking lame, but he just couldn't help it. That morning Ian had woken up with Mickey's face buried against his chest. Another morning he would've slipped out and fake that there had been any cuddling for Mickey's sake. This time instead he had just waited for Mickey to wake up and when he did Ian greeted him good morning. He could have sworn he had seen Mickey smile, but as a response he had gotten only "Mhn, too early to be a good morning, fuckhead". Still, Ian was feeling like it was a really good day, despite the sky being cloudy or Mickey's distaste for military history.

"Sure, when you shut the fuck up," Mickey commented. He had his arms crossed, looking around totally disinterested. So Ian had to be double interested. Not that it was any trouble, he was really kind of an army geek. He remembered his camo bed or his army posters with a certain fondness.

Ian grinned. As if he would ever shut up. Surely not when he was feeling so confident. It was such a rare occurrence since the diagnosis except on manic episodes and Ian wanted to enjoy it as long as he could. Plus, Mickey wasn't doing anything to diminish Ian's rediscovered confidence. Ian had caught Mickey giving him side glances, he'd seen his smile that Ian was sure reached his eyes, promptly covered by his sunglasses. Mickey was trying to act tough, but his breath hitched every time Ian would come closer to him, brushing him almost distractedly.

"It's a pity there are cameras everywhere. I'd love to try one of these cots with you."

Mickey rolled his eyes, but then Ian caught Mickey's gaze lingering on Bowie's cot. Ian grinned.

"Creepy, Mick. The guy probably died on it."

Mickey blushed, showing him the bird. He rapidly moved to follow the guide who was heading to the next room.

***

"So... here we are then, huh?" Ian said, awkwardly playing with his napkin.

"Yeah."  Mickey nodded, worrying his bottom lip with his thumb.

They both sighed, not knowing what to say.

"Good evening, sirs. Have you decided?"

They jumped a little when the waiter arrived to take their orders. The guy was impeccably dressed in black and white, his back straight and a smile stamped on his face. Exactly the kind of waiter one could expect in an expensive restaurant such as the one they were dining at tonight.

It had all started as a joke, really. They were walking down the Riverwalk, Ian poking Mickey about taking him to a fancy ass restaurant, but without meaning to and Mickey so fed up by that that he had decided "You want a fucking restaurant? Candle light and shit? Fine! Let's see how you'll like it!"

So yeah. There they were, in a restaurant that had its own exclusive wine cellar and a pianist playing in a corner, sitting at a white clothed table with a fucking candle in the middle. And a waiter diligently attending to their culinary needs.

Ian was the first to collect himself and ordered and, since Mickey was still visibly sweating, he chose for him too.

"It looks like you've never been in a place like this," Ian said, once the waiter had left them.

"I wish. Been dining in these fucking places all my life." Mickey was talking, but looking around at the same time. "It's just that... I mean."

Mickey waved his hand between the two of them. It was the first time for Mickey in such a place with only a man in front of him, who looked at him with such affection that their relationship couldn't be mistaken by foreigner's eyes.

"Yeah, I get that." Ian smiled, trying to make Mickey feel more at ease. "Just remember nobody knows you here and believe me, we're not the only... huh, guys alone in here."

Ian nodded towards other couples in the restaurant. Not everyone was composed by a man and a woman. Mickey's cheeks maybe flushed more, but at the same time he seemed to loosen up a little bit.

By the time of dessert, Mickey appeared to be much more comfortable, probably thanks to having drunk by himself most of the bottle of wine they had ordered. So much so that once he had paid for dinner, he looked at Ian dead in the eyes and said

"You, me. Tonight we're gonna hit the floor."

***

Apparently for Mickey 'hit the floor' just meant actually stepping on it. At the Heat there was good music and pretty gogo boys on the platforms. Yet, all Mickey seemed able to do was standing by the bar, ignoring all the groping and kissing happening around them.

"You know this is a gay club, right?" Ian asked. "You don't need to be so uptight here. Just unbutton your shirt, put out a little."

Mickey grunted. "Yeah and maybe I should go shake my ass on the platform, huh?"

Ian thought of the times he himself used to dance on the platforms. Not as a job or anything, mostly with his friends in his drunken club nights back in New York. He chuckled. "If you want. I'll be the first to tip ya."

"Oh, but I took your tip just three hours ago in the bedroom." Mickey wiggled his eyebrows in a very non appealing way that made Ian laugh.

"See? That's the spirit! Now, come dance with me."

"You serious? And move like... like them?" he said, pointing to the couples there dancing and grinding against each others. Some of the guys were barely clothed, glittery and sweaty, touching the others with their fingers and their tongues.

"That's the idea, yes." Ian nodded. He wanted to have Mickey in his arms, moving to rhythm with the music, touching his body, licking his skin... "Listen, why don't you drink something first?"

"Nah." Mickey shook his head. Ian was quite surprised, he had never seen Mickey refusing a drink.

"Why?"

"Cause..." He shrugged. "I mean, you can't, right? No fun if I'm the only one wasted."

Ian smiled softly. "Don't worry about me, Mick."

"I don't, but..." Mickey was not looking at Ian and played instead with a drop of whiskey that had been spilled on the counter. "It's not fair, you know..."

Mickey was doing this for Ian, the redhead didn't have so many doubts about it. Ian had to do something about it.

"Let me thank you then..." he leaned in to kiss Mickey, but the guy jerked back instinctively.

Ian rolled his eyes. "Mickey you've already kissed me at the Back End."

Mickey bit his bottom lip. He sighed. "But that was different..."

"Really? How?" Ian looked amused. He pointed with his chin to the dance floor. "Mickey, it's okay. Nobody fucking cares here."

Mickey looked around, as if to find a reason that could  his fears, so well rooted in him to be a second nature to Mickey, a heavy layer he had always brought  with him. But the dance floor was animated with dancing and at the bar, barmen were flirting with clients. No one was judging him there. His eyes set on Ian at last, his hand moving to rest against the redhead's neck and pulling him closer to kiss him deeply. Ian immediately responded to the kiss, taking Mickey's face between his hands. He loved to see Mickey without any worries, free to just do what he wanted to. They kissed for a few minutes before pulling back for air.

Ian didn't say anything else, but took Mickey by the hand and led him on the dance floor. Mickey didn't try to escape his light grip. Once Ian had stopped walking, he put his hands on Mickey's waist, getting closer to the shorter guy. Mickey let him. He looked up at Ian and he took another step so they were almost glued to each other. Just like Ian wanted.

It took a guy dancing behind Ian to make Mickey decide were to put his own hands. He slipped them in the back pockets of Ian's jeans in a protective slash possessive way. Still, maybe to make things clearer for the other guys in there, Mickey leaned in to suck at Ian's neck.

"Fucking faggots," he breathed against the newly formed hickey. Knowing there was no real hatred behind his words, Ian chuckled. He had noticed all the heated glares guys were sending Mickey and he couldn't really prove them wrong, Mickey's ass was a piece of jiggling art. But it was funny that the shorter guy was noticing only the ones hitting on Ian, completely unaware of the rest.

"Wanna make a little show? You know, just to prove that this ass is coming back with you tonight," Ian suggested.

Mickey looked at him amused, licking his bottom lip. He nodded, tilting his head up a little to meet Ian's mouth with his own. That fucking mouth. Ian could kiss it, lick it, bite it for hours. It was soft and right that moment it was hungry. A territorial Mickey was something Ian had longed to see and now that he had him in his arms he was happy to oblige him. Their dancing was like their kissing: hard and heavy, hot and dirty. They were grinding against each other's hips, their breaths getting quicker. Frankly, in that moment they couldn't care less if they were alone or surrounded by another two hundred sweaty people.

"I want you," Mickey whispered against the redhead's lips. Fuck, Ian wanted him too, so badly. His cock was painfully pressed against his jeans and all he desired was to get some time alone with the shorter man.

"Wanna fuck you," Ian kissed him on his jaw, his neck. "Don't think I can wait till the hotel."

Mickey nodded towards the bathroom with a lewd smile. "Yeah. Me too..."

Ian smiled, letting Mickey's finger hook into his belt loop to drag him to 'the bathroom'.

***

"Mick, I swear I would've never thought you'd be so into it in a bathroom stall of a gay club," Ian said, still sweating from their round. They were seated on a comfortable red sofa, slowly regaining their breath.

Mickey scoffed. "Yeah, well. Not my first time."

Ian looked surprised at the other guy, who appeared sated and shit, closing his eyes in satisfaction like a purring cat. "You mean you-"

"I got fucked in gay clubs, well their alleys. Several times." Mickey nodded. "How do you think I fucking found you at the Back End that night?"

Okay, that was unexpected. "Oh."

Mickey snickered. "But it was my first time dancing. If that could have been called dancing, that is." He got closer to Ian. "I liked it though."

The redhead licked his lips. "Wanna dance again?"

He didn't need a reply, because Mickey was already up.

 

***

 

**Last Day**

 

Ian woke up with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his belly. Other than Mickey's back pressed against his chest. Ian slowly opened his eyes, realizing that they were fucking spooning. He actually had to pee and take his meds, but the mere thought of getting up, detaching himself from Mickey's warm body, made him cringe. He didn't want to. The redhead actually _needed_ to cling to Mickey for a little bit more. Just a little bit.

Those past few days had been just perfect. Waking up with Mickey in his arms was the best feeling ever. Mickey was hard, yet soft, and pale with almost invisible freckles. Ian only wanted to kiss him forever.

He smiled to himself when he realized he actually could. He peppered Mickey's nape and shoulder with small, light kisses. He inhaled his scent with closed eyes, burying his nose into his short dark hair. Ian didn't notice he had hugged Mickey too tight until he heard some feeble noises coming out from the other guy. Feeble noises that soon became what Ian could only describe as adorable grunts.

"Morning, Mick," Ian greeted, only pausing his kissing and resuming it immediately after.

"Mhn... Tired," he murmured, not even hinting at wanting to move.

"Yeah, I kinda got that you're not a morning person," commented Ian, caressing Mickey's belly.

"And you're too much. Just close your fucking eyes and sleep."

"Need to take my meds."

Mickey would've probably rolled his eyes, but he continued to keep them closed. "Then go take your pills and come back." With an amused smile and a kiss on Mickey's nape, Ian got up heading towards the bathroom. "And hurry the fuck up, ginger. My back feels cold."

Ian laughed but inside he was happy as a really happy clam. He swallowed his pills and went back to bed by jumping on it.

"What the fuck!" Mickey shouted when he got crashed by Ian's weight. The redhead was on top of him and didn't even try to relieve Mickey from his big body completely slumped over his. Ian smiled deeply at him. He looked at Mickey's lips and leaned down to kiss him softly, morning breath be damned.

Mickey, who had looked like he was going to wrestle Ian, simply locked his arms around Ian's neck when the redhead kissed him. He spread his legs, accommodating Ian between them.

When Ian felt Mickey's hands moving down to grab at his ass, he spoke

"You know that we have to leave in two hours, right?"

Mickey shrugged. "Yeah, let's fuck until then."

Ian chuckled, but pulled back a little, just enough to look Mickey in the eyes.

"Don't you think we should buy some souvenirs or something?"

Ian was actually serious about it. His family had started traveling only for a few years and they would always collect some souvenir to remember the place they had visited. But one glance from Mickey, made clear that they were _so not_ going to go shopping that morning.

"Yeah, sure. C’mhere, Army." Mickey pulled Ian back, his lips again against his own. "I'll let you steal the shampoo when you're done with me here."

***

"Okay, would you please explain why you had to buy a hat for me too?"

Ian grinned at Mickey's grumpy tone of voice. In the end Ian had managed to drag Mickey to at least one souvenir shop and he had bought each of them a cowboy hat with the label 'San Antonio' on the front. Mickey had protested from the shop to the jeep, but now he looked almost comfortable with the hat on.

"C'mon! As if you don't like it."

"I fucking hate it."

"Then fucking take it off."

"Whatever." Mickey shrugged and dropped the argument. Ian suspected that deep down he quite appreciated his hat.

"You look sexy with it, though," Ian commented, looking at him with fucking adoration. Without thinking he put a hand on Mickey's thigh. He understood the mistake when he felt Mickey stilled under his palm. Ian was almost taking it away, when Mickey rested a hand on his own. The shorter guy was keeping his gleyesare on the road but he was beet red and a few seconds later he removed his hand, but letting Ian keep his. Ian had to bite one of the hugest smile of his life from his face.

***

In the taxi, Mickey started to change. Or better, to change back. Ian had suspected it would've happened, but they weren't even on campus that Mickey returned to his usual self.

When the taxi left them, they fell in an awkward silence. Mickey looked anywhere but Ian, while the latter wanted to tell Mickey everything was fine, but he knew it was futile. Mickey was restless and standoffish, as if he was expecting all the people on campus to know what they had been doing in Texas.

_So what?_

Ian couldn't care less about what people thought of his sexuality but he knew that for Mickey it was a nightmare. He noticed the shorter guy brushing his fingers against his neck, where one giant hickey appeared in all his purple-reddish glory. He had done the same thing that morning, but he had been smiling (thinking Ian hadn't been looking at him). Now, though, Mickey seemed scared, rubbing his fingers against it as if it could disappear.

"You know Mickey, people can't guess the sex of whoever gave you the hickey," Ian snapped. Yeah, he was bothered by Mickey's gesture. So what?

"I know that," Mickey quickly retorted.

They shut themselves in silence yet again and finally they were at the junction where they were supposed to split. Ian knew there wasn't going to be any goodbye kiss, but when Mickey greeted him with a simple "See you.", all the disappointment he was feeling made his heart clench. He had imagined it was bound to happen, rationally he knew that Mickey in Texas was not someone he could have in campus as well, but...

Everyone liked to hope, right?

 

***

 

Ian couldn't bring himself to fall asleep. He wanted to, he had lessons the day after, but it was just impossible. He had gotten used so easily to have Mickey asleep in his own arms that now he felt like he was missing something essential in order to sleep.

 _Fuck Mickey_. He thought about buying a teddy bear the next day.

But a stuffed toy couldn't give him the same warmth Mickey did. It didn't breath, it didn't posses that particular scent that made Ian crazy and sure as hell Ian couldn't kiss it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a text. After seeing who had sent it, he read the message with his heart in his mouth.

His breath caught and he jumped from the bed, reaching for the intercom. He opened the front door and soon he found himself face to face with Mickey. The shorter guy looked at him, his eyes pleading, full of mute apologies. Ian moved aside to let him enter. Mickey didn't look back but began to discard his clothes while going to Ian's room.

Ian followed and found him in his bed, on his side. He was giving Ian his back.

Ian closed the door behind him and gently climbed on the bed, pressing his chest against Mickey's back, adjusting to make them both feel comfortable.

They didn't say anything to each other, but Ian felt Mickey's breath became regular. He closed his eyes, finally drifting to his much wanted sleep.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!  
> If you wanna chat or you have any questions: my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	21. The race

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian was so excited about it that he had decided to meet with Lydia once a week and keep his routine religiously. No slip ups were allowed. He would wake up, go running, have a shower, breakfast, swallow his pills, go to classes, meet with Mandy, go to the rowing's club, exercise, go back home, chill out with Alan and Mickey, sleep with Mickey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to introduce some rowing terms. If you'd like I wrote a short glossary about it. You can find it [here](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com/post/135122678951/glossary-for-chapter-21)

The radio alarm turned on. Before Ian could reach for it, another hand slammed on the alarm with force.

"Fuck you..." grunted Mickey. He shuffled back, pressing his back again to Ian's chest. He resumed his position and rested his hand against the freckled one placed on his abs.

Ian chuckled. "Maybe I should place the alarm on my side."

"It's your bed, there are no sides." Mickey's voice was groggy. Ian was sure he had his eyes closed as well.

"Sure, Mick." The redhead smiled against the other guy's nape. Mickey could insist that they didn't have their 'own side of the bed' as much as he wanted, but his watch and his brand of cigarettes were always on the nightstand by the right side. Mickey himself, would always sleep on the right side. So yeah, they had already established sleeping positions.

Mickey fell silent again, probably on his way to drift to dreamland again.

"I need my hand if I want to get up," Ian said, nudging Mickey's shoulder with his chin.

"Then don't get up."

"C'mon... Have to go running."

"It's raining outside."

"No, it's not." Ian smiled.

"They say it's gonna rain this morning," Mickey insisted, not even hinting at letting Ian's hand go. What was before a gentle touch, was now a fierce grip.

"Then better if I go now before the downpour, right?"

"... Just stay the fuck here, Ian."

"Can't. You know we have the regatta this weekend."

Mickey huffed a breath.

"Listen, I'm going for my run and then we can shower together, how's that sound? I got classes after, anyway." Ian tried to bargain, but Mickey was always a though cookie.

"Mhn... A shower and a hummer."

"Sure." Ian grinned and, after sealing the deal with a hard kiss on his temple, he tried to get up. Reluctantly Mickey let go of his hand and laid on his stomach.

"And dress outside. I wanna sleep," Mickey added, grumpily. Before Ian was out of the door, the other guy had fallen asleep again, the sound of light snoring a proof.

Ian looked at the sleepy figure in his bedroom with a dumb smile before closing the door behind him.

 

***

 

Since April, Ian's training had become more exhausting. It was spring and the rowing events were starting. The first regatta was being held there and they also included a match between the rowing club's second teams, in which Ian was part of.

Ian was so excited about it that he had decided to meet with Lydia once a week and keep his routine religiously. No slip ups were allowed. He would wake up, go running, have a shower, breakfast, swallow his pills, go to classes, meet with Mandy, go to the rowing's club, exercise, go back home, chill out with Alan and Mickey, sleep with Mickey.

Mickey was always there, nowadays. He’d spend only a few days by his fraternity house, but it almost seemed as if he couldn't sleep anymore if he wasn't in Ian's room and Ian wasn't about to complain. Sometimes Ian would come back home too tired to have sex and Mickey would sigh but accept it anyway, curling up on his fucking side of the bed and letting Ian cuddle the shit out of him. They spooned and Mickey would never admit it but Ian knew he fucking loved to be the little spoon.

They had never talked about feelings, but they were practically cohabiting, much to Alan's disagreement. Not that he didn't like Mickey, they had great video-game marathons together. He just couldn't suffer the living room being a pigsty because of Milkovich's messy habits.

Ian and Mandy had decided to meet at the college's canteen, both of them famished and just happy to talk to each other. It was the only time they could get together that day.

Mandy breathed a huff. "It's so not fair that you have always training these days. I feel like I meet you only at lunch or classes."

Ian gave her a small smile. He knew that their encounters were not as frequent and long as they used to be and the main cause was Mickey, not training. But what could he do? Mickey was not ready to tell his sister, so Ian couldn't invite Mandy over. He had told Mandy that he trained alone until late at the rowing club a ndthat Alan wasn't comfortable with girls around. Ian had depicted him like a very anxious person who would scream as soon as he saw her in the apartment.

In conclusion, Ian felt like a guilty piece of shit for not spending more time with Mandy. Sometimes he just wished Mandy would barge in his apartment and catch him with her brother getting it on. At least they would've have to tell her anything.

"Yeah I know. I'm so sorry."

She smiled. "Nah, don't worry about it. I got my girlfriends keeping me company. I'm more concerned about MG though. You got some time for him?"

MG, AKA Mistery Guy, AKA Mickey was a topic that Mandy tried to dig up every time, but Ian always dismissed, just giving up some minor details because he really couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Yeah, not as much as I'd like but can't complain."

She patted his back. "Well, good for you." Then she grimaced. "And good for my stupid brother too. He's still telling me there's no one but then I can't find him at his house or anywhere. He's like spending the nights at his girlfriend's and he doesn't want me to meet her. I'm not my father, it's not like I'm going to judge if she's socially undesirable or whatever that means."

Ian scoffed. Yes, he guessed that for Terry Milkovich a _he_ for his son could be considered socially undesirable. More like genderly undesirable, maybe. "Think that's it?"

She shrugged. "Well, that or he already knows we're going to become best friends and group together against him."

Now, that was true. That's what happens when somebody gets into a relationship with their sister's best friend. "I tend towards the second option, Mands."

"You know, I'd really like to meet the girl who has him so whipped, even more than MG. Mostly because I want to thank her for making him happy, you know?" She smiled. "He definitely seems more relaxed. It's a good thing."

Ian just had to hug her tight, almost making her milk cartoon spill.

Mandy hugged him back, confused. "What's for?"

"Huh, nothing, I just missed hugging you," he said with a big, shit eating grin. She just smiled back, shaking her head.

 

***

 

It was late. The other team members had just left and only Ian had remained, working on the rowing machine. His last lesson had ended later than foreseen and he had started the training with half an hour of delay. Now he was making up for the lost time. Because he was such a goody goody, he had also texted Mickey informing him he was going to be late.

So there he was, sweating and panting, moving back and fort on the machine.

_Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out. One - two. One - two._

It was always the same movement, the same constant stretch of the same muscles. Ian could feel his arms and thighs burning and he reveled in that feeling.

With his earplugs on, he didn't notice a figure coming closer, until he saw two fingers snapping in front of him. He lifted up his eyes and smiled when he recognized Mickey.

"Hey..." he said. The redhead paused his movements only to take the earplugs off, but resumed soon after.

"Hey yourself," Mickey greeted resting both his hands on the front of the machine.

"What are you doing here?"

"What? Not happy to see me? I received your message and I didn't have anything else to do, so..."

Ian grinned. "So you thought about coming here? Watching me sweat?"

"I'd rather make you sweat. Like you all sweaty." Mickey licked his lips. Ian could perceive his gaze checking every motion his arms were making. He nodded towards the rowing machine. "That a sex machine or something?"

"What?" Ian huffed a laugh, which costed him to lose a breath and thus the rhythm. He had to pause and began another time with the work-out. "It's a rowing machine, you know that."

Mickey smirked. "I don't know, maybe with a few adjustments..."

Ian had to stop again his exercise, shaking his head at him. "You serious? That's so-"

"Erotic?" Mickey wiggled his eyebrows, causing Ian to chuckle.

"Not what I was going to say, Mick."

Mickey rolled his eyes. He circled around the front of the machine and he put one foot across the bar, managing to be with his legs towering over the pedals. Ian found his head to be perfectly aligned to Mickey's crotch. The shorter guy looked at him with a glint of malice in his eyes.

"I'm not going to give you a hummer on the machine, you can get that outta your head."

Mickey snorted. "Such a downer."

Yet Mickey didn't seem totally disappointed. His gaze was still heated and he leaned in, trailing the sweat on Ian's bicep with a finger and the one on his face with his tongue. Ian was beginning to feel his blood rushing at Mickey's advances. And Mickey, the little shit, knew that. He pulled back, licking his lips and almost closing his eyes. His hand went to touch the bulge that was shaping in his pants. He let out a moan and Ian's breath became heavier. This time not because of the rowing.

"You still sure, Ian? You're not gonna?" Mickey unbuckled his jeans. His hand went under his boxer and he started touching himself. Ian bit his bottom lip, his eyes going from Mickey's cock to Mickey's facial expression. His ears were filled with lusty moans. Mickey was giving him a show.

Mickey was stroking his hard cock, slowly. "I've already prepared myself. I'm good to go." He arched an eyebrow at Ian. "But if you don't want to fuck me..."

Ian pulled Mickey's hips closer. "If there's a god of rowing I'm gonna go to hell," he said, before closing the distance from Mickey's crotch.

 

***

 

"I see him! I see him!" Mandy shouted. She pointed excitedly at one of the two teams that were going next.

"Yeah, I can see him just fine, you don't need to break my arm, bitch," Mickey snapped. Mandy looked down at her grip: she was squeezing her brother's arm tight. But what could she do? She was enthusiast for her best friend's race.

"Oh God, sorry. Didn't know you've become such a fragile maiden," she deadpanned. Mickey rolled his eyes.

"Fuck you, I'm lucky you don't have long nails," he grumbled. He then nodded to the teams, now in their racing boats. "He's number 7, right?"

"Yeah, but he told me he was number 5," Mandy replied surprised.

"Coach thought he could be a 7, since he's a good moderator in the team," Mickey informed without thinking.

Mandy turned her head at her brother. Ian had told her he was just going to chill and sleep the night before, no boyfriend or best friend with him. Certainly not Mickey. So "When the fuck did he tell you?"

"Last night- I mean, last night Lance told me." He pointed his finger at the end of the shell. "He's the bowman there."

Oh. Well that was plausible. "Are you here because of him, then?"

Mickey stilled. "... Who?"

"Lance, who else?" Mandy looked at him as if he was stupid.

Mickey sighed. "No, I'm here because you kept bugging me to escort your ass."

"Didn't think you were gonna come." Mickey's presence had been so scarce lately that she felt it had been ages since they had a normal conversation. She was happy Mickey was with her, but that didn't mean she was going to show him.

"Didn't have anything else to do." Her brother shrugged.

"What happened? Your girl on period and you can't bang?"

Mickey huffed a breath. "For the nth time, Mandy, I don't have a fucking girlfriend!"

Mandy gave him a disbelieving look, but all was forgotten when the sound of a shot signaling the start of the race thundered in the air. They both turned their heads back on the rowing boats. It was a head-to-head, the first shell to touch the arrival was the winner. Of course the majority of the people was rooting for Ian's team since the event was being held at their university, but the Milkovich siblings were standing as close to the shore as possible.

 

_Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out. One - two. One - two._

Ian was duly following Carson's strokes. As soon as number 8 started to increase the speed, Ian adjusted his own, instructing the others behind to do as much.

There was no time for distraction. They weren't allowed to look at the other team or they would skip their coordination and, as a consequence, lose the race.

The only thing that Ian could see was the red and blue of Carson's back. Ian's mind was focused on adjusting his movements and his body was giving all the force it could muster.

 

"Fuck Mick, they're losing!" Mandy cried.

"Fuck you! Have a little of goddamn faith!" said Mickey. He looked completely taken by the race. Maybe her brother liked the sport after all.

 

_Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out. One - two. One - two._

Ian's muscles were fucking burning. His arms pulling back and fort.

The cox had told them the other team was in advantage and the rowers were now trying to perform a come back. They couldn't lose, Ian couldn't lose. The battle with his brain was eternal, but this one here, this one he could win. He was in control.

The cox was excited now, inciting them to continue with the rhythm since they were recovering.

But the arrival line was so close, the time so little.

 

"See? They're recuperating... C'mon, c'mon..."

Mickey seemed completely lost in the game. Mandy was squeezing yet again his arm and he wasn't even noticing it.

The finish line was there. The two shells were equal now.

Mandy clenched her eyes shut, she just couldn't look...

 

"YESSSS!" shouted Lance when their boat crossed the finish line. They heard another shot, signaling the end of the game.

The winner: Norton second team.

His teammates rejoiced, patting their backs, splashing water. All Ian could do, though, was close his eyes and sigh.

It was finished. It was fucking finished. They won and now he was feeling like all his energy was drowning away from him.

 

"Fuck yeah!" Mickey exclaimed and he whistled. Mandy joined in.

She only then noticed Mickey's bottom lip was raw from an intensive biting session. This newly found obsession of Mickey with rowing was quite the shock for her.

"C'mon, lets' go greet the winners," she said, grabbing Mickey's hand and dragging him along.

 

Ian and his team mates took a few pictures, hugging each other, all smiles and enthusiasm. Frankly, Ian was glad the race was over. He was feeling as if the race had sucked all his energy and now all he wanted was to rest.

Still, they had won and Ian knew celebrations were in order. He looked around and spotted Mandy coming his way with her brother. With Mickey. _His_ Mickey, if all the hickeys and marks on his body counted for something.

Ian smiled fondly at the siblings and he was soon enveloped in a tight embrace. From Mandy, of course. But behind her head he saw Mickey looking at him with a smirk that was doing nothing to hide the affection behind it. Ian had hoped for Mickey to come see the race, but now that Mickey was really here he was fucking giddy.

"I knew you'd win!" Mandy exclaimed once she had disentangled from the hug.

"I didn't. We took the upper hand at the last second, almost," Ian said, noticing soon that Mickey's gaze wasn't lingering on his face, but rather on his crotch. Ian knew the reason: his shorts were ridiculously tight.

Mickey licked his bottom lip lustily. Ian wondered if the other guy was aware of his gesture. In any case, the redhead waved his hand a little to capture Mickey's attention and have his blue eyes again on his own.

"You did good, Gallagher," Mickey said, finally getting a grip. Sometimes his eyes would trail down, though.

"Thanks, Mickey," Ian replied, a big smile schooling on his face. He was trying hard not to blush at Mickey's insistent gaze. "Right. Now we gotta take our medals. Tonight the guys and I are going to O'Lairy to celebrate, though. Wanna come?"

Mandy nodded. "Sure!"

Mickey only shrugged, but it was enough for Ian to almost forget how tired he was.

 

***

 

"Why are you so fucking slow, just get the key already," Mickey growled at the front door of Ian's apartment. They were outside, Mickey visibly horny and yet trying (and failing) to refraining himself from showing it.

"Can't find them, wait a goddam second..." Ian was rummaging through his duffel bag in search for his key without any luck.

"Jesus Christ, c'mere." Mickey pressed Ian against the door, going straight for his mouth. He forced his way into Ian's parted lips, deepening the kiss and closing their distance.

"Don't like to wait, huh?" Ian whispered after he had pulled back to breath.

"Never," grunted Mickey. He moved one hand down to Ian's jeans waistband. He bit Ian's bottom lip and resumed the descent of his hand.

"Mhn. Mick..." Ian's breath hitched when Mickey began palming him through his jeans. And then...

"Is it a set of keys or are you just happy to see me?" Ian heard Mickey say.

"Huh?"

The dark haired guy pushed his hand inside one of Ian's front pockets, retrieving his set of keys. Of course he swung it in front of Ian with a motherfucking smirk. Ian rolled his eyes, snatching the keys from Mickey's grip. He unlocked the door, with Mickey behind him who was kneading his butt.

"Had fun?" Alan asked. He was standing in front of them and as soon as Mickey saw him he retracted his hands. "I heard you outside, I was coming to open the door for you."

Both Mickey and Ian were silent, until the latter cleared his throat to say "Oh, yeah. Had fun. You should have come."

Alan waved him off. "Nah. But I saw your race, good job," he complimented Ian. The redhead smiled.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, well. I'm going to bed now. With my earplugs on." He looked at Mickey. "Music at high volume," he added and turned back to his room.

As soon as Alan was out of the way, Mickey didn't lose any more time. He took Ian by the hand and he brought him to the bedroom, closing the door. The shorter guy rested the other free hand on Ian's neck, pulling him closer and kissing him again.

Ian smiled and met his lips, resuming what they had started before. Mickey had him pinned against the wall, his hips grinding against Ian's. The kiss lasted a few, passionate minutes, before Mickey pulled back and tossed Ian on the bed.

"Eager, huh?" asked Ian. Mickey's pupil were dilated, Ian could see his hard on painfully constricted in his pants.

Mickey licked his lips. "Can't help it." He came closer. "Since I saw you with those shorts... I just wanted to get on my knees and suck you dry."

Ian swallowed down. "Really? Pity there were too many people."

"Yeah. But now we're alone." Mickey dropped on his knees between Ian's legs. He caressed Ian's thighs, looking up to met green eyes. Ian leaned down to kiss Mickey. It was almost sloppy, their tongues meeting in a slow dance. They separated and Mickey started to get to work. He unbuckled the jeans and took them completely off, together with his boxers. He licked his palm and soon was stroking Ian's shaft, never losing eye contact.

Fuck, how could Mickey look so sexy between his legs? When he felt Mickey's breath on his cock, Ian closed his eyes, anticipating what was going to come. As soon as Mickey's tongue licked his length, a moan escaped the redhead's lips.

"Keep your eyes open, Ian," Mickey murmured, before going down on him. He started slow, only focusing on the tip, licking it, pressing his tongue against it. By now Mickey knew how to tease Ian in the right way and fuck if he was good. Mickey bobbed his head up and down, taking in more of Ian's cock in his tight warm mouth.

As requested by Mickey, Ian had his eyes opened, following every movement. Sometimes he met his blue eyes, so dark now and full of lust. Yet he closed them as soon as Mickey went further to deep throat him. Fuck. Fuck. So good.

"Mick..." he panted. He was feeling so close to the climax, every time his tip brushed against Mickey's throat. "Can I just..."

Mickey hummed in a positive response. Of course Ian could come in his mouth.

Ian didn't last for long, shooting his load in that wet tightness and Mickey swallowed it down, milking his fading erection until it was spent. He raised up and Ian noticed Mickey's leaking erection, partially freed from clothing.

Ian was dead tired now, but he couldn't leave Mickey with blue balls. The dark haired guy seemed to share the same view, because he climbed on top of Ian and pushed him with his back on the mattress. He leaned down, kissing Ian and letting him taste himself on his tongue. The redhead rested a hand on Mickey's neck to keep his lips on his own, while he trailed the other down his body, enveloping it around Mickey's cock. Mickey gasped in pleasure, pausing their kissing. Ian didn't take his eyes off the other guy, imprinting to memory all his expressions of pleasure. He finished him off in a few minutes, what with Mickey already pent up from the blow job.

Sated, Mickey took off his clothes and closed again the distance between their bodies. Ian smiled softly at him and Mickey pecked him on his neck.

"You tired?" he asked, gently brushing his lips against Ian's skin.

"Yeah..." Ian sighed. "The race drained me, I guess."

"And you think you're such a tough guy, huh?" Mickey commented, obtaining a small chuckle from Ian.

 

***

 

"Hey what you want to do today? I'm down for some movie marathon." Ian heard Mickey say. He was so fucking loud, though. Could he just shut up?

Ian didn't reply. It was too much of a hassle. He decided to keep his eyes closed and ignore him.

"Really? It's fucking noon, Ian. I think you slept enough."

It was noon? Already? Yet Ian couldn't even bring himself to look at Mickey. He only curled himself better in his fetal position. He didn't have the energy to do anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!  
> If you wanna chat or you have any questions: my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	22. Where’s Mickey?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Ian is in a depressive episode. But it's going to be good, promise.

"Oh, come the fuck on! Your race lasted like ten minutes, you can't be that fucking tired!"

Alan was passing through the hall when he heard Mickey shouting. Damn if that guy was boisterous. Between that and the mess he'd always create around the house, Alan sometimes wondered how in the end he liked the guy. Probably it was thanks to Mario Kart. Or the fact that he was making Ian happy.

Alan shook his head and went to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich, trying very hard to go into his zen mode.

"You know what? Sleep the whole fucking day!" Mickey thundered from the bedroom. Alan heard the door slam and soon Mickey joined him in the kitchen.

"Hey. Huh. Watcha doing?" he asked Alan.

"Tuna sandwich. Want one?" the roommate replied, grabbing two other slices of bread when Mickey nodded as a response.

They ate in silence, with Mickey sometimes looking towards the hall and then scowling.

"Did you two fight?" Alan asked, curiosity taking the best of him.

Mickey shrugged. "Fuck if I know." He kept silent for a little while, chewing at his sandwich bite, thoughtful. "He doesn't want to get up. I mean, yesterday he seemed pretty tired, but there was the race, so. But now..."

Alan listened intently. He didn’t like what he was hearing. "Are you worried?"

"No," he quickly replied. Then he brushed his bottom lip with the thumb. "I don't know. You wanna come with me? Just to check and be sure."

Mickey pointed with his chin to Ian's bedroom. Alan shrugged, hoping it wasn’t anything serious.

"Yeah, sure."

Mickey sighed and got up. He opened Ian's door, letting Alan inside.

What Alan saw was a lump made of blanket with messy red hair sticking on top. He looked at his roommate with apprehension. Ian had told him what a picture like that meant and it wasn't good.

Mickey sat on the bed. He stretched an arm out to caress Ian on top of the head.

"Hey Ian. Why don't you get up? We can watch a Van Damme movie if you want."

The only reply he got was a muffled "Leave me alone..." coming from Ian. Mickey retracted his hand, biting his lip.

Alan didn't wait to see Mickey's defeated expression, but went back to his room to grab his phone. He knew what he was supposed to do. Apparently Mickey shared the same thought.

"You calling the doctor?"

Mickey came out of the bedroom, his eyes settled on Alan's phone. The roommate nodded.

"It's the only thing I can do."

 

***

 

Ian recognized Dr. Laney's voice talking. He just didn't want to listen to it. He had told Mickey to leave him alone, not call his fucking psychiatrist.

He only desired to sleep. He needed to replenish his energies. Why couldn't they just understand that and leave him with his misery?

There was a rational part in him, though, a really tiny part that suggested him that if the doctor was in his room, maybe there was a reason why he couldn't feel any force left in him.

 

"So, doc?"

Mickey was the first to corner the psychiatrist as soon as the man walked out from Ian's bedroom.

Dr. Laney looked at Mickey, with an arched eyebrow.

"I'm sorry. You are?"

It was really a simple question. No doctor would tell anything to someone who they didn't know how they were related to their patient. Alan had met the psychiatrist when he had accompanied Ian to his office. It had happened back in February, when Ian had had his hypomanic episode, but Mickey was a perfect stranger to him.

Unfortunately, Mickey must have heard that question as an interrogation about his relationship with Ian, because he started to gasp, his mind clearly trying to come up with some non incriminatory answer. Alan decided it was too much of a pathetic scene to assist.

"This is Mickey," he answered in Mickey's place. Alan knew Mickey was a regular topic in Ian's sessions with Lydia and he was pretty sure Ian had mentioned the guy at least once or twice with Dr. Laney too. Even Alan was already fed up with details about the apple of Ian's eyes that he really, really hadn't want to know.

As foreseen, the doctor nodded, knowingly. "Oh, I see."  

The one left out of the loop frowned.

"You see?" asked Mickey. "What? This an inside joke?"

Alan shrugged. "You can't really believe that Ian had never mentioned you with his doctor, can you."

Mickey's stance stilled. By now Alan knew what it meant, that Mickey was readying himself to bolt or fight. But something inside happened and Mickey relaxed once again. He sighed.

"So, now that you know who I am, care to share what's wrong with that lump over there?"

Dr. Laney nodded, making his way to the living room.

"It's just as I thought. Recently I decreased his dosage of seroquel, because Ian was doing pretty well and we decided to give it a try. But it's clear now...

The doctor started talking about the effects of the antipsychotic as well as the role that Ian's race must have had on him. Dr. Laney made some adjustment to Ian's medications and schedule, upping the dosage of his mood stabilizers. He also told them to contact him the day after to know if there were some immediate effects. With only a few words more, he was ready to go.

But Mickey was having none of that.

"So what? You're already going?" he asked, his eyes almost menacing.

The psychiatrist nodded. "There's only so much I can do. With Ian's illness right now it's a question of wait and see." He softened his expression. "Even though as a physician I'd like to cure him for good, it's still not possible with these kinds of mental illnesses."

Not receiving any reply from Mickey, the doctor put on his coat. "Call me tomorrow with an update."

With these last words, he was gone and Mickey was left standing still.

Mickey looked at Alan and the roommate could see the worry in his bright blue eyes.

"Fucking bipolar..." he muttered. "If it's an illness why can't you just... just find the right treatment."

Alan sighed. "It's not so simple-"

"I know!" Mickey snapped. "I fucking know that! I've read this shit online, Ian told me, it's that... How can I..."

Mickey shook his head and made a rush for the front door. "I, huh, I have to go."

He slammed the door behind him in a hurry, leaving Alan dumbfounded. He remembered his conversations with Ian, where the redhead had confided his insecurities about Mickey dealing with his disorder. Mickey finally knew about the bipolar, but he had never really seen eye-to-eye what it meant  to be in a relationship (or whatever they called it) with someone suffering from it and Ian was afraid Mickey would've thought he wasn't worth the effort. Mickey was already deeply closeted, having a crazy gay lover surely wasn't something he wanted. Despite Ian's bitter words, Alan had come to believe that Mickey was more invested in Ian than Ian himself thought and he wouldn't run away at the first sight of his illness.

Alas, he had been wrong, apparently.

Alan went to the kitchen to make a peanut butter sandwich for Ian. He didn't even bother knocking on Ian's door and set down on the night stand the sandwich with a glass of water. Ian was still a lump under the blanket. Alan should go look in the bathroom cabinet to see if they still had enough seroquel and the vitamins the doctor had prescribed. Right. Mickey had the prescription. Alan hoped the guy was at least returning to give it back.

"Where's Mickey?"

Alan was going back to his own room when he heard a whisper.

"What?"

Ian sighed, as if repeating what he had said was of too much effort, but he did anyway in a groggy, tired voice.

"Mickey. Where's he?"

Ha. Alan wasn't the type to lie or even to sugarcoat the truth. But he couldn't say to his friend that he suspected Mickey had forfeited. "He went back home. To get some stuff."

Ian didn't reply and Alan cursed himself for not being able to be a better liar.

Alan went back to his room, trying to finish his report on the assigned book. However, he was really using his mind coming up with a better excuse to explain Mickey's absence, at least while Ian was in such a depressive phase.

An hour passed and Alan was still internally debating whether the excuse of Mickey too busy with his assignments was too far-fetched, when he heard the door ringing.

Could it be...?

He hurried to open the door to face Mickey, who looked quite fatigued and panting. Mickey had a full backpack on his shoulder and made his way into the apartment like he owned the fucking place.

"Are you alright?" Alan asked, watching as Mickey collapsed on the couch. The shorter guy nodded, closing his eyes for a few seconds. He looked like he had run a marathon or something. "Where did you go?"

Mickey opened his eyes, looking at Alan with annoyance. He gestured with his forefinger to make him wait and opened his backpack. Mickey pulled out a small white bag, which tossed at Alan.

"Went to buy his meds. I stopped the good doctor before. Wanted to ask about Ian and, you know, 'bout stuff." Mickey shrugged, like it wasn't a big thing. But Alan was quite impressed.

"And the backpack?" Alan nodded towards it. Mickey blushed a little, but it was enough for his pale skin to show the pinkish shade of his cheeks.

"Oh. Uhm. Thought about staying here for a little while, I mean, until Ian is better. So I brought some of my stuff”.

"That would be great," Alan answered, without making Mickey notice that he was already pretty much living there. The one or two nights a week he'd spend at his fraternity couldn't count for much in the balance.

Mickey shrugged. "'s nothing."

"No, really. Thank you." Alan moved towards the bathroom "I'm going to check how many pills we've got."

Mickey nodded. "Sure. I'mma..."

The dark haired guy didn't even finish his sentence, he just made a beeline to Ian's bedroom, closing the door behind him.

 

***

 

He could tolerate Mickey's presence. Ian knew it was the depression that made him so hostile to someone being in his proximity. He was aware that it was his brain's fault.

But Ian wasn't ready to accept Mickey's touches. He couldn't suffer feeling his fingers on his body, Mickey's arms enveloping him in a suffocating embrace.

Ian scooted a bit ahead on the mattress, but Mickey moved with him.

"Don't touch me," whispered Ian.

He heard Mickey's voice coming from behind him. Warm and almost groggy. It was enough for Ian to feel nauseous. "But Ian..."

"No. Go away." Ian really couldn't take it any longer. What did Mickey want? Couldn't he see that Ian didn't want him here? Moving behind him, touching him, fucking breathing in the same room?

"C'mon don't be like this-"

"Get the fuck away!" Ian shouted, causing Mickey to roll out of the bed, alarmed. Don't be like this. _Don't fucking be like this_ . Did he think Ian liked to be _l_ _ike this_? Ian drowned himself in the blanket, muffling the sound of the door slamming.

Now that Mickey was gone, Ian could cry in sorrow without anyone to notice.

 

***

 

In the morning, Alan drowsily wobbled to the kitchen. He had his first lesson of the day too early for his tastes. With a yawn he moved pass the couch, noticing a still asleep Mickey laying down on his stomach. Alan thought he had heard a scream the night before, that was probably the reason why the poor guy was sleeping on the sofa.

Alan made the coffee and the smell woke up a stiff Mickey, who groaned in pain.

"This couch is shit," he murmured, sitting down. He looked at Alan, who had the coffee pot in his hand. "Get me some coffee."

Alan overlooked the tone of command in Mickey's voice and filled a cup for him too.

"Ian didn't let you sleep with him?" Alan asked, giving him the mug. He sat on the coffee table.

"Nope." Mickey took a sip of coffee. "My fault. I even talked to the doctor yesterday but I guess I still have to get used to it. One thing is to know this stuff, another is actually experiencing it. Like, the fact that Ian doesn't like to be touched? Total shock for me."

"It's just for now. I'm sure Ian loves to be touched by you," Alan replied without thinking it through. Damn, he was never at his best during early mornings.

Mickey's eyes widened and his cheeks were now apple red. He looked so uncomfortable right now and he showed it by standing up. "Yeah. Huh. Gotta pee."

The shorter guy ran to the bathroom, causing Alan to chuckle.

 

***

 

It was bright outside, but for all Ian cared, it could have been an endless night. Mickey had forced Ian to take his pills just a minute ago and he had apparently decided to chill for a while on the bed.

Ian was shivering due to the meds, but Mickey refrained himself from touching him. Since the other night, when Ian had yelled at him, Mickey hadn't touched him again. Yet, he'd stay in the room, telling Ian something he thought funny or just doing nothing.

This time Ian could hear him fiddling with his phone, maybe playing some game. Ian was giving him his back but Mickey didn't seem to care.

After the tremors had ended, Ian stretched his arm from under the blanket to grab a glass of water standing on his bedside table. His mouth felt dry and he knew it was another side effect of his pills.

"Want me to go?" Mickey asked.

Ian slowly rested the glass back on the table and shook his head.

"No. Stay," he murmured before turning around, his eyes half closed. Ian saw a beginning of a smile on Mickey's lips. The guy rested a hand close to Ian's own and continued playing on his phone with the free one. Ian closed his eyes, but not before placing his hand on top of Mickey's.

 

***

 

A few days had passed since the beginning of Ian's depression and it was possible to notice Ian's changes for the better. Mickey had left the couch to sleep again on Ian's bed, Ian had started to talk more and wasn't allergic to Mickey’s touch anymore. He had even laughed at some of Mickey's jokes and by Alan's opinion they were terrible so his mood must have had definitely improved.

Alan had heard before some commotion in the bathroom and the voices of both Mickey and Ian inside. Mickey had finally succeeded in making Ian have a shower and that was certainly a good sign.

Alan was ready to go out when his eyes caught on the scene going on in Ian's bedroom. The door had been left ajar and Alan saw the two guys bathed in the brightness of the room. Ian sat on the border of the bed, all wrapped up in a towel. Mickey had a leg between his, dripping wet and only his boxers on. He was gently drying Ian's hair up with a small towel and he was smiling. It wasn't an amused smile, but rather an affectionate one. His fingers were gentle around Ian's head, almost as if they were touching something precious. Mickey leaned a little bit closer and Ian did the same. Ian was the first to initiate the kiss. Just a small peck on the lips, really, but able to convey all the fondness they felt for one another.

Alan instead felt like the renowned third wheel even though he wasn't even in the room with them. He shook his head, wondering how the hell those two could not just be honest with each other and headed for the front door.

 

Having had a shower after days felt so good. Ian's body was warm and clean and Mickey had taken good care of it, wrapping it up in a big towel.

Ian had his eyes closed, relishing in the feeling of Mickey's fingers in his hair. Mickey had never touched him like this before. Not in a sexual way, not even friendly. Like he was important. Ian opened his eyes when he felt Mickey's breath closer to his face and that was when it happened, when his green eyes met Mickey's bright blue ones and he remembered Mandy's words from weeks ago.

_"Does he get that look in his eyes when he's with you?"_

_"It's... You know, I can't really explain. It's when you know. They look at you and you can see yourself in their eyes, because they're looking at you. Only you”._

Ian closed the distance between their lips, connecting them for a few seconds. When he pulled back Mickey was again smiling at him and that look... That look was something Ian didn't know he needed until that moment. He smiled back and rested his forehead against Mickey's shoulder, feeling that warmth inside his chest he thought he had lost during the past days.

They lost track of their surroundings for a few moments. Until they heard the intercom ringing.

 

Alan was at the door when he heard the ringing noise. He answered the intercom, hoping it was just someone who buzzed at the wrong number.

Unfortunately, this someone knew exactly who she was buzzing.

"Yes?"

"Huh. Alan? I'm Mandy, I'm here to see Ian!"

"..." It was Mandy. What was he supposed to say? He had a half thought about letting her up and then make a run outside, but he knew Mickey would've give him pain if he had let his sister discover him with Ian. _Fuck ._

"Buzz me in?"

Right. Alan buzzed the intercom and opened the door. He hurried to Ian's room, knocking. Ian and Mickey looked at him alarmed.

"Uhm. Just so you know. Mandy is coming up," Alan said.

"What?!" Mickey's eyes widened with panic. "And you let her in?! What the fuck, man!"

Alan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well. She's here to see Ian, what was I supposed to say?"

"What-" Mickey's words were interrupted by the sound of a door opening. Mickey mouthed at Alan something along the line of "You opened the fucking door?!". Alan shrugged.

"Okay." Mickey decided. He was talking in a low tone now. "You go stall my sister. She can't find me here."

Alan looked at him in shock. "Stall her? But I-"

"Don't give a fuck. Go now or I'mma break every knuckle on your hand, all fifteen of 'em."

Alan looked at him with suspicion. "You know Mickey, I think there are only fourteen-"

Mickey didn't let him finish that he threw Alan outside.

"Alan?" He heard Mandy's voice coming from the living room. Sighing, Alan went to meet the girl, absolutely not happy with how the situation was evolving.

He became even more sure of his opinion when he found himself close to Mandy. What was he supposed to say to her? He was fairly sure she wasn't a big fan of lotr or anything that Alan liked for that matter. Mickey had said that his sister was amazing at Mario Kart, but Alan doubt he could stall her by proposing a game when she was here to see her best friend.

Alan looked down at her. She was so pretty, just like he remembered from that short introduction months ago. That made things even worse. He didn't know how to talk with girls like Mandy. They made him think that there was nothing in this world he could say to make them interested in looking at him twice. Or in this case, long enough to stall them.

"Why aren't you screaming?" Mandy asked, looking at him with a perfectly arched eyebrow. She looked so surprised that he wasn't having such a ridiculous reaction to her that he caught him dumbfounded.

"Huh?"

"You're not screaming. Ian told me that you scream if a girl enters the apartment."

Alan was ready to reply how absurd that might be, when he caught a glimpse of Mickey running from Ian's bedroom to his own. He lost track of the topic, before shaking his head.

"I don't scream, I'm just-"

"Shy?" Mandy suggested with a soft smile. "Nothing wrong with it. But you don't really need to be tense with me." She gestured to the television. "Ian told me that you're a wizard at Mario Kart, maybe someday we can have a match, what d'ya say?"

Mandy's words were so surprising for Alan that he took a few seconds before nodding. "Yeah. Sure."

"Okay then," Mandy moved down the hall, smiling to him one more time before going into Ian's room.

"Hey Ian..." Alan heard her greeting her friend before she closed the door behind her.

Alan took a few moments before recollecting himself and get out of the apartment.

 

***

 

Ian's head felt much clearer now. The redhead was still tired but he had finally managed to get a hold of what had happened in his college courses by checking on his computer and books. In a day or two he was ready to go attending his classes again.

He was sprawled on his bed, his arms stretched high to hold a book above his head. Ian was trying to read it, but it would be a lie if he didn't admit he was fairly distracted by the presence next to him. Mickey was laying on his stomach, lazily reading some lecture notes. Ian couldn't help but cast a side long glance at the dark haired guy. Mickey had been so close to him these past few days it still came to Ian as a surprise. An amazingly good surprise. They even hadn't had sex yet, with the exclusion of hand job on Ian's part as a thank you for being so patient with him. It was just all so nice, to be able to feel Mickey so close to him.

Mickey caught Ian's gaze and rolled his eyes, amused.

"Thought you wanted to study your journalism shit, not my face," he commented.

Ian grinned. "I like studying your face. It's very expressive."

"Really?" Mickey chuckled. He leaned down, giving Ian a kiss on the forehead. "Just study now. I'll let you look at my awesome face as much as you want tonight."

Ian laughed, but his attention was all gone, completely focused on that simple kiss.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!  
> If you wanna chat or you have any questions: my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)
> 
> And a big fat thank you to pink_ink who reassured me about this chapter. Lova ya <3


	23. Fuck the Geneva Convention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one thing: back in chapter 6 I wrote that Lip was attending MIT. But no, he's studying at CalTech.

"So yeah. I'm taking my pills, right on schedule. I have my eight ours sleep cycle, well more or less, and I eat healthy. You know I do. Vitamins and all. I feel pretty fine."

Ian nodded, convinced by his own words. Yet there was something else he wanted to tell and the fact that he was worrying his lips white kind of suggested that to Lydia.

"Is there something else, Ian?" his psychotherapist asked. "Maybe... regarding Mickey?"

"Yes!" Ian shouted immediately, causing Lydia to chuckle at his enthusiasm. Ian was a little embarrassed that he had to introduce Mickey in every single session he had with his psychotherapist, but really, what could he do? Here at least he was able to pronounce Mickey's name without shocking Mandy or giving Alan the hives. There was a limit to Alan's patience and it was heavily tested every day by Mickey almost constant presence in the apartment.

_Oh, right._

"We went out on a date again." Ian smile was ear-to-ear. "I mean the first time Al kinda forced us to get the hell out of the apartment but the other day Mickey asked me to try this new place and... I mean, not that it was nothing fancy like in San Antonio but, you know. It was just Mickey and I. It was nice."

From the little stars in his eyes, Lydia could gather that it had not been just 'nice' for Ian.

"I'm glad things are going well with Mickey," Lydia said with a soft smile on her face. Ian relaxed on the couch. Then he remembered something else he wanted to tell her and he started fidgeting with his fingers. Lydia was fast to caught on that.

"What is it, Ian?"

"Huh. I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you that. Maybe yes? It's just that I can't even tell Mandy, because if she discovers it she'll insist she has to meet him and I'm just barely keeping her curiosity at bay." Mandy was getting more and more suspicious. Ian was starting to believe that one day Mandy would barge into his bedroom and discover him getting it on with her brother.

"Just tell me."

"We... kinda not use protection anymore?" Lydia opened her mouth to say something but Ian continued. "We took the tests for STD's. It's just that it happened once. We were home -I mean, my apartment- and we run out of condoms and Mickey wanted it, so. Plus we're exclusive, so..."

"Ian-"

"But then we got scared so we took the test. Well, I had to drag Mickey to the clinic but we did it and we were safe. I kinda knew I was, I took the test when I was diagnosed but Mick was like so worried..."

Lydia managed to interrupt Ian's flow of thoughts. "Ian," she repeated with more authority. "I'm not saying you can't have unprotected sex with someone you're in an exclusive relationship with, but you know that there are always problems to consider."

Ian knew exactly which one she was referring to. The threat wasn't even on Mickey's part, but on his own. If he ever got manic again, Ian wouldn't think rationally and with his hypersexuality to boost... It had been a miracle he hadn't gotten some serious STD's when he had been living in New York.

"I'm not gonna cheat on Mickey," Ian mumbled anyway.

Lydia nodded, understandingly. "I know. As I also know that you told Mickey everything. He's been of great help during your depressive episode and I'm positive you can work things out. I just want you to be safe. To feel, safe. Both for yours and Mickey's benefit."

"Yeah." Ian sighed. "Sure it's weird to talk about this stuff with my psychotherapist."

"Not at all. It's a big step and I'm glad you told me." She reached for her tablet. "Now. Regarding your trip to California next week. You already talked to Dr. Laney, right?"

Ian nodded, relieved that the sex topic had ended. "Yeah, he gave me a schedule to follow considering the jag lag and everything."

"Good, good. I talked with him too. About how to assist you during the summer. So, we were thinking..."

She explained all the options to Ian and the redhead listened to them with full attention. It was true that being away from his doctors was something he feared. He was so used to have them in Boston. Yet at the same time it meant it was almost time for Summer Vacation and Ian would lie if he didn't admit he wasn't looking forward spending some of it with a certain dark haired man.

 

***

 

Ian put another pair of jeans in his duffel bag and zipped it close.

"Think that's all," he muttered, looking around in his room to see if there was something else he had missed.

"I bet. You'll be gone for a couple days. Should just bring with you a shirt and you'd be fine."

Ian snorted. "Sure. I'll go to my brother's commencement smelling and with a stubble."

"Stubble is hot and you're going to CalTech. The majority of those nerds practically live in a fucking lab, you'll just mix with them."

"Not gonna happen, Mick," Ian said in a final way and went to grab a light jacket. "Well, I should go. Cab's going to be here any minute."

He looked at Mickey, who was biting the corner of his lip. His expression softened immediately.

"I promised I'll come back in time for you graduation, didn't I?"

Mickey looked at him for a second, before lowering his gaze. "You don't need to, you know. Nobody asked."

Ian smiled at Mickey's grumpiness. It was true, Mickey had never asked him to be at his own commencement, but that didn't mean he didn't want him there. The fact that Mickey had mentioned the date several times even in completely unrelated occasions hadn't passed unnoticed by Ian.

Ian wanted to come anyway. He wouldn't have missed Mickey's commencement for the world, but the fact that Mickey wanted Ian there too was an attractive bonus.

"You mean it's best if I just stay a little more time in California and skip your ceremony?"

Mickey shrugged, looking everywhere but Ian. "Well. Though luck. You've already booked your flight back."

Ian chuckled. "Yeah. Too much of a hassle to change it, huh?"

They heard the intercom rang. The taxi had arrived. Ian smiled and took Mickey's face in hands.

"I'll come in time and then I'll give you a Congratulations hummer." Before Mickey could laugh, Ian closed the distance and kissed him hard. They had already spent the previous night making up for the few days of abstinence, but Ian was already missing those fucking lips. And Mickey was too, since he moved even closer to Ian.

Ian sighed when he had to interrupt the kiss. "Okay. Need to go."

He gave Mickey another peck on the lips and exited the bedroom.

 

***

 

In the taxi driving him back to campus, Ian was fucking exhausted. He loved his family. Really, he did. He would die for them and everything. But try spending two days with them 24/7 with Lip's ceremony and the following crazy celebrations in full Gallagher's style. Ian had never been so glad to take his flight back in Boston.

He also kind of missed Mickey. They had tried to sext or have a sex call, but the task had been made incredibly difficult due to his family's loud voices always in the background. Quite impossible to get a hard on with that.

It was pretty late and Mickey had already told him he was out with his frat bros and siblings who had come to see his graduation. Ian could only hope Mickey wouldn't sport a hangover the morning after. Ian remembered the grimace on Mickey's face when he had asked him if his father was going to come. He had snorted, telling him that Terry Milkovich only moved his ass out from Chicago for business. With bitterness he had commented "Thinking about it, it's quite strange he's not coming. I'm kinda a business for him, am I not?". Ian had only smiled softly at him, holding him through the night whispering sweet words in his ears.

Opening the door to his apartment, Ian let out a tired sigh. No one was home. Not Mickey. Not Alan. The latter had already flew home so now he had the space all for himself. He thought he would've been happy for a change, especially since after the too close proximity with his family. Instead he was feeling fucking lonely and he couldn't even call Mandy because she was out with Mickey. Damn Milkovich.

He decided to scavenge for whatever was still edible in the kitchen and go to bed. He needed his beauty sleep to be pretty as always for the commencement.

 

***

 

The ceremony was being held in the morning and Ian went to attend  with black circles under his eyes. From his position, Ian was having some difficulties at tracking down Mickey. The graduating students were all dressed the same, and after the seventh time Ian had mistaken someone else for _his_ dark haired guy, Ian threw in the towel. Who instead was pretty easy to spot was Ian himself. Mandy came from behind him and hugged him tightly.

"Why the hell are you still here!" she exclaimed.

Ian turned around, smiling at her. He had just the perfect excuse. "You know I still have another regatta. I just thought to hop by and see the commencement."

"Oh right," Mandy nodded. "I wish I could stay here with you, but tomorrow I'm taking a flight to go back to Chicago. Gonna stay with my aunt Rand.  My brothers asked me if I wanted to go with them for a trip around Europe but I don't think so. Just one girl with three stupid fucks like them? Nah, thanks."

Ian's heart sunk at the word 'three'. "You mean your brothers Colin, Iggy and Tony?"

"Tony? No, Mickey of course. It's like a celebratory trip, I guess. Wine and beer and women of all nationalities. Guys." She shrugged, not noticing Ian's change of mood. What the fuck? Was Mickey going away?

"When?"

"Tonight? I think? I'm not sure. We're gonna hit the bars as soon as we're finished here." She pointed with her forefinger to two guys who were looking at them. One Ian recognized, he was the brother he had seen ad the police station. The other he guessed had to be Colin.

So Mickey was going away. To-fucking-day. Ian wasn't expecting it. It was true they didn't talk about what to do during the summer, but he had hoped they were going to spend at least a few more days on campus! And then, maybe with some convincing Ian could have gotten Mickey to go on a little romantic vacation with him.

It was useless to find comfort in the knowledge that Mickey was coming back in Boston in August to start working as an assistant for the Mayor. It didn't fucking matter if now Mickey was going away, slipping through the night like a fucking closeted thief.

"Oh. Got it," Ian said, without any cheeriness in his voice.

"Wanna come with? You can help me dragging those drunk idiots to the airport," Mandy suggested with a smile. Ian was quick to shook his head.

"I think I'll pass. I just came back from Lip's commencement, I already had my share. Need to sleep."

"I under- Look, Mickey!" She pointed frenetically to a group of students raising up. Ian finally saw Mickey, but this time the only thing he wanted to do was throwing his shoe at his head.

 

***

 

Ian was in bed trying to get some sleep, but it was all for nothing. He had even gone to the rowing club to exercise with the rowing machine and force his body into craving for the bed. He was now turning around on the mattress, instead. He knew why he couldn't sleep. His thoughts were set on Mickey and how in that moment Mickey was probably on a plane to fucking Europe.

Mickey hadn't hinted at it. Not fucking once. Ian would've fucking understood if he wanted to go on a trip with his brothers. Maybe Mickey hadn't told him because he wanted to break things off without bothering to talk. But after all they went through these past months?

Soon a thought flashed Ian's mind. He got up, looking around to see if anything of Mickey's was missing. Mickey had never taken his backpack at the frat house and it was still there, full of clothes. In the bathroom Mickey's stuff remained untouched. Mickey might still think they weren't living together but the fact that even his laptop rested on Ian's desk was screaming otherwise.

So why the hell would Mickey leave him without taking his things with him?

Ian was sitting by the edge of the bed, torturing his brain to come up with a solution that would please him, when he heard the sound of the front door being opened. Ian jumped up right away and ran to the living room.

There Mickey was, stumbling a little, clearly half drunk from an afternoon jag. He saw Ian and smiled at him, almost tripping in the effort of taking off his shoes.

"Hey..." he greeted after a hiccup.

Ian looked at him bemused. "You're not flying to Europe."

Mickey frowned. "Shit. How the fuck-"

This time Mickey tripped over the coffee table and only a prompt action by Ian saved him from falling like a sack of potatoes. Ian helped him to sit on the couch. Mickey leaned back sighing.

"My brothers took me to like seven bars." He grimaced, twisting his head around enough to look at Ian.

"So they didn't take you to the airport." Ian had kind of guessed by now that Mickey wasn't going to Europe but now he wondered why the hell had Mandy told him that.

Mickey snorted. "I'm here, right? I - Fuck, my head is spinning. Can we go to bed first, huh?"

Ian found himself nodding and helped Mickey to the bedroom. The drunkard instinctively rolled on his side of the bed. Ian thought Mickey looked too fucking adorable, but he couldn’t dwindle on this now. He wanted answers.

"Well?"

Mickey sighed. And hiccuped again. "Right. You're not gonna let me sleep first." He closed his eyes. "It was Mandy, wasn't it?"

"Yes. She told me you were going to Europe with your brothers."

Mickey scoffed. "Nah, man. That's what we told her. My brothers had asked me to go with them. I declined but told them to spread the word that I was going with them, so I can have a vacation with my girlfriend without anyone snooping around. Iggy and Colin don't care about my private life, so..."

Mickey kept side glancing at Ian while talking, especially on the words 'vacation' and 'girlfriend'. Ian was wise enough by now that he didn't squeal something along the lines of "Oh my god, your girlfriend? As in boyfriend? As in I'm your frigging boyfriend?!". Instead he only grinned, taking his time to let Mickey's words sink in him. He soon scooted closer to him.

"So, huh, does that mean that you planned something for the summer?" _For us?_

Mickey nodded. "Yeah... I wanted to tell you after your regatta like, you know, a surprise, but you fucking ruined it."

Ian chuckled. He wasn't that sorry he had ruined the surprise. He was actually all giddy that there was a surprise in the first place.

"Since the surprise is gone, just tell me now," Ian suggested. He trailed his fingers on Mickey's clothed chest.

"Not gonna happen. I'm too tired now. Had a long day," Mickey answered, rolling on his side.

Ian was having none of that. He rolled Mickey over, starting to undress him from head to toe.

"What the fuck!"

"I promised a celebratory blowjob, didn't I?" Ian reminded him, almost a serious look on his freckled face. "So now you're gonna get it."

Ian tossed his jeans together with the boxers on the floor, leaving Mickey with only his socks on. Then he went on the attack. Not that Ian needed to force Mickey to spread his legs open. Mickey didn't need any encouragement for that, drunk or not drunk. He looked down at Ian's face resting on his inner tight. He licked his lips.

"Well, Firecrotch. I guess it's only fair." Mickey closed his eyes again and his fingers tangled with Ian's red hair when Ian started his ministrations on his inner thighs, on his balls, along his perineum. His plan was to turn Mickey into a sobbing mess, begging him to give attention to his cock. At that point Ian had already figured out Mickey would have revealed his summer plans for them. He was a fucking genius.

Problem was, Ian hadn't taken in consideration that Mickey was actually really proved. Only when he heard Mickey's regular breathing did Ian understand that he was not going to get the wanted information. At least not for the night.

With an exasperated sigh, Ian covered them both with the light blanket and switched off the lights. He didn't resist spooning Mickey.

 

***

 

From that night onward, Ian spent his time between exercising and trying to retrieve the desired intelligence from Mickey. He was going totally guerrilla on the guy.  

Mickey was in the bathroom taking a crap without a care in the world and... BAM! Ian would open the door asking him what the surprise was.

They were fucking on the bed, getting down and dirty and Ian would tighten the hold of his hand around Mickey's cock, begging him to just tell him the surprise since it had been already ruined.

Ian was even hunting Mickey's dreams apparently, because one night Mickey shouted in his sleep "Ian what the fuck!".

Things were taking a horrible turn for Mickey, who started closing himself into the bathroom with the key and raising the volume of the television to deafening levels just to avoid Ian's protests.

Mickey was revealing himself to be a real though guy, but the night before the regatta (meaning the day before Mickey was going to unveil the surprise anyway), Ian got Mickey to talk.

Really, Ian had never imagined he was going to obtain the truth that way. Not even stroking his dick without letting Mickey touch it if he hadn't talked hadn't worked out. And he had even jerked himself off in such a sensual fucking way. But Mickey had just started touching himself too and Ian had kind of jumped on him, entirely forgetting his mission.

When it happened, Ian was chilling out on the couch with Mickey. They were only wearing their sweatpants (Mickey wearing Ian's and vice versa, but details, really) and watching television. It was all calm, until Mickey decided to change the channel.

"Oh, c'mon, just change it back," said Ian. Since Mickey couldn't give two shits, the redhead decided to grab the remote control from Mickey's grasp. They wrestled a little but Mickey didn't seem to give up so Ian resorted to use Plan U (aka totally Unplanned): he started to fucking tickle Mickey. Ian had never tickled Mickey before. Usually when Ian put his hands on the shorter guy, it was to fight or fuck. But damn if he regretted not having tried that technique before.

Mickey gave up the clicker almost immediately.

"Ay! Stop! STOP!" Mickey cried, but Ian continued. Since he was already there, he was so going to get the truth from Mickey and the Geneva Convention be damned.

"What are the plans for this summer, Mick?" Ian insisted, not stopping in his torture. Mickey was a sobbing mess under him and not in a sensual way. He was partly crying, partly laughing and he had lost all his strength.

"F-Fuck you- Stop!" Mickey was a tough fucking guy but he had to relent since Ian wasn't taking any pity on him.

"OKAY!" Mickey surrendered after another minute of hard tickling. "It's Florida!"

Ian held his hands back as soon as he heard the name and let Mickey take his breath back. The dark haired guy was completely red in the face, but kicked Ian in the side as soon as he recomposed himself.

"Hey!" Ian shouted.

"Hey my ass! You try to pull this stunt one more time and I'll whack you, get it?" Mickey's voice was still too shaky to be menacing but Ian nodded.

"Good." Mickey sighed.

"So, Florida, huh?" Ian asked. He had a bone now and he wanted to chew on it some more. "What about it?"

"Huh." Mickey scratched his nose. He was embarrassed. "Got a house in Florida and no one is going there this summer. Seemed a waste not to go there, you know. So, if you wanna we can go there and chill out a few weeks."

Ian opened his mouth to say something, but then grinned. A giant, shit eating grin.

"Did you just invited me over at your house?" he asked, trying to suppress a laugh. A really, really joyful laugh.

Mickey became beet red and avoided eye contact. "Fuck you is where I invited you. It's just one of my family houses is not that big a-"

Mickey's ramblings about how much his offer wasn't anything important, trying to diminish the beauty of the moment, were soon interrupted by Ian's mouth catching his in a searing kiss.

Ian didn't let go of his lips for a few minutes. He pulled back and whispered

"So, when are we going?"

"The day after tomorrow. Already got the tickets," Mickey muttered.

Before Ian could become all smug about it, Mickey closed again the distance, giving him a kiss that made the redhead forget everything else that those lips against his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Ian tickled Mickey. If I were Mickey I would dump him right on the spot.  
> People don't do this at home! Tickling people is bad. Last time someone tried to do that to me, I kicked his balls. Literally.
> 
> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!  
> If you wanna chat or you have any questions: my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	24. Florida

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck. Why was it so fucking awesome kissing those lips? They had been staying in Florida for two weeks already and Ian still couldn't go for much longer than an hour before feeling the need to press their mouths together. Mickey had never refused a kiss, he had actually initiated many of them. It was all perfect and Ian just wanted to spend the whole day just feeling Mickey against his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to publish this chapter yesterday but I have been at the hospital the whole day (nothing serious!). So, here it is!

The door opened and Mickey stumbled inside the house with a redhead koala attached to his back.

"Come the fuck on, Ian! Let me close the door at least!" Mickey exclaimed.

"Nope." Ian shook his head. "Your fault for not joining me in the Mile High Club."

Mickey managed to move enough to shut the door, but Ian's grip didn't relax. "Sorry if the hostess bitch was glaring at me the whole time you were in the toilet, she fucking knew I bet!"

"I waited in there for ten fucking minutes. I'm sure people started to think I was sick or something," Ian protested. He put his weight on Mickey's shoulders causing them to fall down.

"Ow," Mickey groaned. "You know you're fucking heavy, right?"

"Yeah, well you like my weight on you," Ian said. With a swift motion, he grabbed Mickey's dick, eliciting a small moan from the other guy. "So, what do you say if we-"

Mickey was fast to push Ian aside and rolled out of his grasp. "We got a whole house for ourselves and you wanna fuck on the floor? No way I'm getting burns on my skin cause of your horny ass."

Mickey got up and Ian did the same. They look at each other for a second before the redhead sprung to catch Mickey. Mickey ducked the first attack and run away from Ian.

"You play hard to get?" Ian asked, chasing after Mickey.

"No, just wanna show you around the house first!"

Mickey pointed towards what appeared to be the kitchen. "And the living room is there!" The short fucker knew his way around and dodged Ian's attacks with ease. But the redhead never relented and managed to grab him by the time he dashed for the stairs.

"I think I can wait to see the upstairs," Ian said, pushing Mickey against a wall.

"But there's a giant bath tub in the upstairs bathroom..." Mickey managed to sound annoyed, but the way he licked his bottom lip kind of suggested the contrary.

"How about..." Ian leaned down to kiss Mickey's jaw. "How about we get down and dirty now and _then_ we use the giant bath tub?"

Mickey closed his eyes, his breath hitching as Ian's lips moved from the jaw to the neck, sucking and licking at the tender skin.

"I think -mhn- I think we can do that," Mickey muttered, before deciding not to waste any more time. He quickly started unbuckling his jeans.

Instead of fucking on the floor, they opted to bang against the wall. In the end, Mickey got skin burns on his back.

 

***

 

The night before they had decided to sleep in Papa Milkovich's room. Mickey's own room was actually also Iggy's and Colin's, which had been lots of fun when they had been younger but it didn't feel like the case when he wanted to share a bigger bed than a twin with Ian. Or at least that was what Mickey had told Ian. Ian felt there was more to it, though. It was another silent, yet present, fuck you to his father. Much like his almost faded knuckle tattoos. They were something Terry didn't know about, but that would enrage him to no end if he'd ever discovered them. On the bed, Mickey had been nervous at first, as if he was expecting his Pops to barge in the room with raised fists. Eventually, he had relaxed and Ian was sure he'd never been sweeter.

In the morning, Ian was watching Mickey sleeping. He was softly snoring laying on his stomach, the sheets barely covering his pale ass. He was fucking inviting.

"Mickeyyyy. Are you awake?" Ian whispered in Mickey's ear. He felt the other guy stirring to life next to him.

"Fuck off."

Ian chuckled, jokingly nipping at Mickey's earlobe. "But it's after nine. How long do you want to sleep?"

"As long as I need to," Mickey grumbled, not even hinting at opening his eyes.

"But I'm awake," Ian protested.

"Well, good for you."

"And I want to go sightseeing."

"Go then."

"All alone?" Ian scoffed and pushed himself against Mickey, enveloping him in a tight octopus embrace. Mickey cursed under his breath, but he was laughing the moment later. He opened his eyes and met Ian's green ones. He smiled at him.

"You're a fucking dork," he muttered in a soft tone of voice. Ian agreed with a shrug and leaned down for a kiss. Mickey responded by parting his lips to allow entry to Ian's tongue. They basked in a slow make out session until Ian pulled back.

"That means we're going sightseeing? Also grocery shopping. I had to take my pills with the leftovers from yesterday's pizza."

Mickey arched his eyebrows. "I got my morning wood and you're practically dry humping me. Take care of me first and then we can talk about pancakes powder and vegetables."

Ian showed a wicked grin. He nodded and, like any other gentleman would do, he disappeared under the rumpled covers to solve Mickey's problem.

 

***

 

At the grocery store, Mickey was holding a huge cucumber, looking at it thoughtfully. Ian couldn’t help but to yield to the temptation.

"Mine is bigger, if that's what you're wondering about," Ian said, coming right behind Mickey. He leaned a bit forward with his waist, brushing Mickey's ass with his groin in the movement. Mickey jumped a bit at that.

"What the fuck!" he shouted in a whisper, but all he received was a chuckle from Ian. "You fucker..."

Ian moved from behind him and grabbed another cucumber, much bigger than the first one. "I think this is more accurate."

Mickey scoffed. "Bitch, you wish."

At Ian's offended expression, Mickey shook his head. "I was just thinking about getting come cucumbers. Maybe eggplants... And no. Not for kinky stuff. To fucking eat."

"Didn't think you were into vegetables, Mick."

"Hey, I always order bamboo and mushrooms and the Chinese. And anyway, we got a bbq grill at the house. Grilled vegetables are good with a rare steak to go with. Or burgers."

Ian looked surprised. "Didn't know you could cook!"

"I can grill."

"Like any other cave man can. I like it. It's hot."

Mickey shoved him away with a laugh.

They strolled around the market, stocking up with food and supplies. Ian noticed how Mickey picked stuff Ian liked without even needing Ian to ask for them. The shorter guy knew Ian's preferences by now. He knew which cereals brand Ian used for his breakfast and what kind of shampoo he thought was best for his unruly hair. Ian didn't say anything to Mickey, but the huge grin on his face made Mickey blush anyway. Ian had to restrain himself not to kiss that beep red nape.

Ian insisted to pay for the groceries and they put the paper bags in the car Mickey had previously rented.

"Okay, now can we go home?"

"No Mick." Ian shook his head. "Sightseeing remember? And a little bit of shopping, why not."

Mickey groaned but Ian's stern gaze told him everything there was to know about trying to protest. It was futile. He raised his hands in defeat. "Alright, whatever. But we still have to go home to put the stuff in the fridge, I'm not gonna scoop the melted ice-cream from the rent car because your ass wanted to see a few palms."

"Okay!" Ian smiled like an overgrown  puppy and he was conscious that his imaginary tail was wagging with enthusiasm. He was just so happy that Mickey had caved in.

They went home and stuffed the freezer. Before Mickey could drop his lazy (but still perfect) ass on the couch and then refusing to leave the house again, Ian dragged him outside and they were in the city center in the blink of an eye.

Ian was happy as fuck, going around with Mickey beside him. Sometimes he felt a cold shiver down his spine, like there was something inside him that was telling him that when he was that happy it meant he was on the way to mania. But Ian didn't want to listen to it. Not this time. He was happy because he was in Florida after he had passed all his exams and it was hot and sunny and Mickey was there with him. This happiness was not a product of his brain's fucked up chemistry, but it derived from something normal like a walk with someone he wouldn't dare to call his boyfriend yet, but who was acting like it.

"What's up with that stupid smile? You're making me nauseous," Mickey commented. "You can't be that happy I bought you a fucking mug."

Ian took out his mug from the paper box it was inside. On the white ceramic there was written 'Florida: America's wang.' next to the picture of the state of Florida morphed into a penis. "I think it's hilarious."

Mickey scoffed. "I think that's pretty gay. You drink from a mug with a cock drawn on it."

Ian shrugged and put the mug inside the box. "You don't have any sense of humor. And _you_ bought it for me."

"Sure I did, you kept staring at that thing, I wanted to get out of that fucking shop."

Ian bumped his shoulder against Mickey's. "Well thank you anyway."

Mickey looked shy and lowered his gaze. "Whatever."

They walked around the shops for a little bit more, looking and talking and laughing, when something weird happen. Ian knew by now Mickey had a peculiar taste in shirt. Apart from the fact that he'd cut the sleeves off (which was something Ian relished on, since they brought out his nice strong arms) his shirt's designs went from band's names to a sketch of an elephant's head. Ian though that that tee was adorable on Mickey, especially when he was wearing it while being all grumpy and shit.

Yet, Ian would've never thought Mickey capable of staring in awe at the kind of shirt that nobody with a minimum of taste would like. Yes, that shirt. The Hawaiian shirt. Mickey took one hanger from the stand outside the shop and looked at a yellow and green one, with fucking orange palm trees and flowers on it.

"You're fucking serious," Ian said, pointing at the shirt in disbelief.

Mickey put the hanger against his collar bones to cover his own shirt with the Hawaiian one. He wiggled a little. "Kinda sexy, huh?"

Ian opened his mouth to say something like "And my mug was pretty gay?", but he only shook his head, amused. "Yeah, sexy. Sure."

Mickey rolled his eyes and put the hanger back, but Ian grabbed it and went inside the shop to pay for the shirt before Mickey could stop him. The redhead came outside with a smug grin and handed the bag with the shirt to Mickey. Now he needed to see mickey with that shirt on. And take pictures.

"You should wear it for the bbq this evening," Ian commented. "So manly."

Mickey flipped him off, visibly annoyed, but he took the bag.

 

***

 

Mickey was in the backyard, heating up the grill. Next to him there were two huge ass steaks, two burgers and some sliced vegetables. Ian came out of the house, bringing a package with him. He tossed it at Mickey.

"What the fuck is it?" asked Mickey with his usual polite tone.

"Open it."

Mickey rolled his eyes, but did as he had been told. He teared open the package and discovered a colored towel. No, not a towel. Mickey unrolled it, revealing an apron with the picture of the State of Florida.

"Really." Mickey arched his eyebrows, looking at Ian. Ian only grinned.

"You need it. You didn't even noticed when I bought it." He waved at Mickey. "C'mon just put it on."

Mickey looked bemused but he put on the apron anyway, probably just for the sake of shutting Ian up.  Ian instead started laughing at him and Mickey understood the reason only when he glanced down at the State of Florida: the picture stood exactly above his crotch next to 'America's wang' written in a small font he hadn't noticed before.

Mickey opened his mouth to say something but it was all so lame it was impossible to come up with any reply. Ian was still laughing when Mickey rolled his eyes.

"Gallagher..."

"Oh, c'mon, it's fun!"

Mickey only looked at Ian in disbelief and shook his head, returning his attention to the task at hand. Ian nodded proudly at himself anyway since Mickey didn't took the apron off.

He stood next to the man at work, watching what he was doing and bringing him a new, cold beer from the fridge. When the food was ready, Mickey put it on their respective plates. Ian had wanted his meat medium instead of still bloody like Mickey adored and the other guy was still eyeing the well cooked steak with a slight disgust on his face. They sat at the table close to the grill that Ian had set.

They didn't waste any more time before wolfing down the food. Ian let out a pleased moan.

"Mick. You know how to grill your meat."

Mickey scoffed. He had to chug down his beer to avoid choking on his last piece of steak.

"I'm a man of many skills, Firecrotch."

"Don't I know that," Ian said wiggling his eyebrows. He was not as good as Mickey at using them, but enough to make the other guy laugh.

They stayed out there, while the sun set and a starry night took its place. They talked, laughed, flirted how they usually did. Eventually, they decided to change location and they soon found themselves staring at the sparkly sky from the bottom of the drained swimming pool.

"I've never sat at the bottom of a pool," Ian said, laying down next to Mickey. They were so close their arms and legs touched.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. To get it filled they'd immediately notify Pops, so..."

Ian shook his head. "No, it's fine." He worried his bottom lip, a habit he was sure he was getting from Mickey. "As long as you take me to the beach."

"You wanna go there?" Mickey turned his head to face Ian.

The redhead shrugged. "Why not? We're in fucking Florida. It's kind of a duty."

Truth was? He just craved to see Mickey in a swimsuit. With him. Like together. Like a couple sharing a beach towel together.

Mickey was probably thinking the same thing (Ian didn't know if in a negative or positive prospect) because he stayed silent for a minute.

"Yeah, okay. Whatever."

Ian beamed at him and Mickey looked back at the sky, trying to conceal a smile that Ian noticed anyway.

 

***

 

It was a marvelous day to spend at the beach. People were playing beach volley, others were sunbathing and the waters were animated by more or less able swimmers.

The majority of people there was tanned, brown, brownish, caramel skinned. It was easy to spot the foreigners, because they were still white as milk.

Ian and Mickey were a fucking beacon for the white skin team. One with hair so dark yet skin so pale and the other with a rosy body adorned with thousands of freckles and shocking red hair. They were sitting on _two_ different beach towels, trying to fight the merciless sun with the strongest sun block they had found. Mickey was putting the cream on his face, when Ian turned his back to him.

"What are you trying to suggest?" Mickey asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ian stretched his back muscles to give Mickey a little eye candy. "Put some cream on my back."

Mickey's eyes widened. "You fucking crazy? Not a chance."

Ian pouted. "Why not? Nobody's going to tell you shit if you do."

The shorter guy decided to ignore Ian and kept on putting the sun block on his face. Ian was offended now. What the fuck, Mickey wanted to play like this? Game on.

Ian sported the chin, visibly angered at Mickey. He snatched the tube from the other guy and stood up to walk to a group of noisy girls who were tanning close to them.

"Hi," he said, instantly obtaining the girls' attention, who greeted him cheerfully. "May I ask you to put some cream on my back? My friend there is sure people will think he's into dudes if he helps me."

The girls laughed, but Ian could feel eyes burning from behind him. Well, _fuck you too, Mick._

A cute brunette waved at him inviting to sit down. Ian obliged and the girl rubbed on his skin with the sun block.

"You're gonna need a stronger sun block, Red. You're so pale," she commented, moving her hands purposefully slow,

"Oh yeah?" Ian asked, but he wasn't paying much attention to her. Rather he was watching Mickey watching him. Mickey was annoyed as fuck and if looks could kill...

Another girl asked him something and Ian was momentarily distracted when a flip flop hit him straight to the head. Ian twisted his head back, ready to throw the flip flop at the not so subtle perpetrator. Yet, what he saw was Mickey cross legged, giving Ian his back. Ian must have stared for too long, because Mickey turned his head and arched his eyebrows in an expression that conveyed the message "The fuck are you waiting for, you dumb fuck".

The redhead smiled happily and excused himself from the girls. He sat behind Mickey and uncapped the sun block. No words were exchanged but Mickey didn't flinch as Ian put the cream on him, even if his movements were gentle and caring. When he reached Mickey's hips, Ian fiddled with the waistband of the swimsuit but didn't go further.

Mickey turned back to face Ian again but he stilled when he saw the girls from before snickering and watching them. Ian followed his stare and was now concerned over Mickey's reaction. Instead Mickey took a long breath and exhaled before deciding to go for it and pecking at Ian's lips.

"At least those bitches know you're not fucking available."

Ian was dumbfounded. He opened his mouth in a shocked 'O', until the corners of his lips curled up and he was fucking beaming. It was because of the kiss and it was because of his choice of words. Ian was not available. Because he was _his_. He was almost going to say something lame as "Thank you" to Mickey, but before he could, Mickey stood up.

"Going to have a swim," he said abruptly. Ian couldn't see the expression on his face, but he was ready to bet Mickey was making a run because of embarrassment.

"Mickey, wait!" Ian shouted, standing up and walking behind Mickey. The guy didn't wait for him and went into the water, beginning to swim as soon as the water level was high enough. Ian rolled his eyes and followed Mickey. He was good at swimming, but Ian was better and he reached Mickey in no time.

Mickey stopped in his track and turned back to Ian. Nobody else but them was there and the beach was far enough that people couldn't distinguish their faces.

Ian grinned and closed the distance with Mickey.

"I like when you're territorial," he said softly.

Mickey scoffed. "Yeah, I'm not going to mark you by peeing on you you sick fuck."

They both laughed, until Ian caressed Mickey's cheek. "I mean it. I like it."

Mickey nodded, this time looking at Ian straight in the eyes. Mickey was fucking beautiful in that moment, with his dark, wet hair plastered around his face, his lips so dark red, sometimes crossed by salty drops of water.

Ian didn't know who started the kiss, but they both urged for each other, meeting their lips and beginning a long, deep kiss. Their fingers lingered on their bodies, the water slowing their movements in their action. When they separated from each other, they smiled. They took their damn time before going back to shore, with blue lips and wrinkly fingertips.

 

***

 

They had had fun at the beach. A lot. But the aftermath of it all, made them regret all the hours they had spent under the sun.

The evening after they had come back from the beach, they had been almost fine. By the time they had finished their shower, though, they were two red lobsters. The brunette had been right, they needed a much stronger sun block. That night they hadn't even tried to touch each other but for rubbing the moisturizer on their burning bodies.

Had it been erotic?

No, not really. They had been in fucking pain and Mickey had sworn he was done with the beach, done. Done.

The following day, they had decided to avoid the sun like two vampires and take solace in the A/C refrigerated house. While shuffling the tv channels Ian came up with an idea.

"What about a porno?" Ian asked. Mickey looked at him surprised.

"You wanna watch a porn when you got me right here?"

Ian scoffed. "Yeah, since you're whining in pain as soon as I touch you."

"Well excuse the fuck outta me if my skin is worse than yours," Mickey replied, offended.

"Then?"

Mickey shrugged. "Okay, let’s watch a fucking porno, but I choose."

What Ian learned by watching Mickey deciding the movie, was that Mickey was kinky. Like, pretty kinky. His gaze lingered for a longer time on porno with tags about sex toys and light BDSM. Ian kept his grin hidden and didn't comment when Mickey chose a normal porno.

"That okay?" Mickey said, but already throwing the remote control on the coffee table. Meaning: he didn't give a fuck if Ian wasn't okay.

"Yeah, sure."

Ian stood up and disappeared from the living room to grab tissues and lube. He came back and Mickey put on the video. He had to admit to himself that it was weird watching a porno with Mickey. They were watching two people fucking their brains out while sitting on the couch, lube at hand.

The chosen porno was about the 'turbulence' happened on a flight. Basically, it was about the pilot and co-pilot having lots of fun with the passengers. Ian saw that Mickey got soon into it, heavy breathing and a hand close to his waistband. To think he had been the one complaining. Irony wanted Ian to experience problems in becoming hard watching the video with Mickey close to him.

Mickey must have noticed Ian's impasse, because instead of touching himself, He squirted some lube on his fingers and put his hand in Ian's boxer, immediately going to palm his bare crotch. Ian felt his cock stirring to life, hard and heavy, and side glanced at Mickey. The young man was looking at the television, faking to be totally focused on the pilot giving it to passenger #17A in a position Ian didn't know was even physically possible.

Ian grinned. He put some lube on his own hand and decided to return the favor. Mickey let out a moan and squeezed Ian's dick as soon as he felt a freckled hand stroking him. Ian scooted closer to the other guy, quickening his rhythm. Mickey followed his lead, pumping his cock at the sound of loud moaning and cursing coming from the screen. Finally he turned his head to look Ian in the eyes. His pupil were dilated and Ian thought he was so sexy even though his nose was red like Rudolph's. He was so fucking gone on Mickey. He leaned down to kiss his lips and Mickey greedily welcomed his tongue in his mouth. Their lips were burning but Ian didn't want to stop moving them against each other.

Mickey was the first to interrupt the jerking off by taking off his sweats and boxers and urged Ian to do the same. It didn't take much longer before Mickey was straddling Ian, ready to kiss him again.

"You sure?" asked Ian, pulling back a few inches from his face.

Mickey nodded. "Not gonna let the Florida's sun win over my sex life."

Ian chuckled and rapidly got to work on stretching Mickey. His moans were definitely the best, they ringed so hot in his ears, nullifying the ones coming from the television.

"Fuck me, Ian," Mickey murmured when he was ready to take him. Ian didn't waste any more time, bucking up his hips and pushing inside that tight heat that was Mickey. Mickey's fingers pressed against his back, but Ian couldn’t give a fuck if his skin was screaming for mercy. Mickey shared the same opinion because he didn't stop moving against him, on him, taking him deep inside.

“God, Mickey. You’re so… so…” Ian gasped when Mickey did a circular movement on his cock. He was in fucking heaven.

“Yeah, I know, Firecrotch,” whispered Mickey with a cocky smirk. His eyelashes fluttered as Ian hit his prostate. “Right fucking there, yes. Yes.”

They moved fast, Ian continuing to push against Mickey’s sweet spot, Mickey lost in a complete rapture, locking their mouths together. They reached the climax a few minutes later. Mickey came between their abdomens. He rested his forehead against Ian's, spent. Their breathing was irregular but they followed each other's lead and it became steadier, until they were inhaling at a normal rhythm.

After a few moments, Mickey stood up in a slow movement. He caressed Ian's hair.

"Think I'm gonna hit the shower."

Ian nodded at the porn. "Don't you wanna know how it ends?"

"I'm sure at the end they'll find they're gonna marry."

Ian chuckled and turned off the television, his eyes never leaving Mickey's lower body. He looked at his round ass jiggling while Mickey was walking, a pearl of come - _Ian's_ come- trailing down on his inner thighs. Ian bit his bottom lip.

"Mick, I'm coming with ya. Let's save some water," Ian said, following Mickey to the bathroom.

 

***

 

Maybe they weren't that sexy in their current state. With their skin peeling off from their noses, arms, chests, and back they looked more like tanned zombies than normal human beings. Yet they couldn't stop touching, kissing, licking, fucking. On occasion, even peeling some skin off each other, just because they were two little shits and they loved to make the other scream, not only during sex.

A few days later, they were in bed. It was dark outside and Mickey climbed off the bed to go rummaging through his trolley. What he grabbed, left Ian frowning.

Mickey threw a string of big, sturdy black balls on the mattress. Ian touched it, a little scared.

The shorter guy chuckled, slightly embarrassed. "They're ben wa beads."

Ian looked surprised. "You sure they're anal beads? Look more like a rosary for giants to me."

Mickey shoved him at his shoulder. "Fuck you, man. They're standard."

"Standard my ass." Ian stopped. He grinned. "Well, it's your ass that's not standard."

This time Ian found himself tackled on the bed by Mickey, who grabbed at his wrists.

"Dick," Mickey spattered, without any venom. He was smirking and leaned down to give Ian a half kiss- half smile. "It's your fault. You're too vanilla."

Ian pulled his head up to get his lips on Mickey again. "You really want to use those cannon balls?"

Mickey rolled his eyes, but nodded.

"Okay then. But you gotta earn it first," Ian said, earning a scowl from Mickey. He grinned. "Starting from now..."

Mickey licked his bottom lip, looking down first on him, then the ben wa beads. He shook his head, as if he couldn't believe Ian was bargaining sexual favors for other sexual favors. Then he appeared to have made his decision and moved down on Ian's body. A sexy smirk formed on his lips before using his mouth on Ian.

Yes, the ben wa beads were guaranteed to be used soon.

 

***

 

It was difficult for Mickey to climb down the stairs when the man on the step behind him didn't seem able to stop himself from groping his butt.

"I know I got a great ass and everything but you should really do something about your fucking hands," Mickey said, not doing anything to stop the kneading on his ass only covered by his boxers. Or Ian's. Whatever.

"Not my fault. They have a mind of their own, can't control them," Ian replied, giving a squeeze on Mickey's ass cheeks for good measure. That prompted more of a laugh than a reprimand from Mickey.

"Fuckhead..." Mickey muttered, amused.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Mickey decided to take the matter in his own hands and pushed Ian against the wall. He pressed a hand against Ian's bulge.

"Sorry, not responsible for my hand either," Mickey said with a smirk.

"Be my guest." Ian leaned down to kiss Mickey, trailing his hands down his body to grab his ass again. He didn't hear any complains.

Fuck. Why was it so fucking awesome kissing those lips? They had been staying in Florida for two weeks already and Ian still couldn't go for much longer than an hour before feeling the need to press their mouths together. Mickey had never refused a kiss, he had actually initiated many of them. It was all perfect and Ian just wanted to spend the whole day just feeling Mickey against his body.

Alas, bodies were traitors and Ian's belly grumbled loudly. Mickey broke into a fit of laughter, removing his hand from Ian's crotch.

"You hungry?" he asked.

Ian shrugged. Stupid belly. Ian had had a toast earlier to go with his pills and now he was fucking hungry again. "A little."

"Just a little, huh?" Mickey repeated. He gave Ian a peck on the lips. "Let's go make something."

 

***

 

The kitchen was... not exactly tidy and clean. There were still dirty dishes in the sink and tin cans and boxes scattered on every available surface. Not to mention the high need of the table of being scrubbed off its countless food stains. Yet, they kept on adding dirt instead of cleaning up. Ian rummaged through the messy cupboard to find a flour bag.

"Feeling like cupcakes."

"With chocolate chips?" Mickey asked, searching for them.

Ian nodded, grabbing a skillet and resting it on the stove's burner. He loved how they looked so domestic, preparing their brunch together in harmony. Of course he'd never actually tell Mickey his thoughts, he very liked to keep his redhead on his neck.

"Put on some music?" he suggested instead. Mickey didn't say anything but went to the stereo and chose some random radio station. Country music made its appearance in the room.

"Really Mick?" Ian snorted.

"Shut up," Mickey shrugged. "Last time I put something I liked you complained so get this. I'm not going to listen to any more of your remixed crap."

Ian rolled his eyes. "It's music you can dance to. Yours is... moving your head back and forth listening to people screaming because they hammered their feet."

"They didn't- whatever." Mickey raised his hands. The fact that he didn't use them to strangle Ian was a good sign of Mickey's fondness of Ian. Because no one could talk shit about his favorite hard metal singers and live to tell the tale. "So country music it is."

Ian caught Mickey's face between his hands and kissed him lightly. "Fine by me."

They soon found all the ingredients and Mickey started beating the eggs. Ian slowly added the flour, sugar and the other dry ingredients, all while Mickey was using the whisk. The dark haired guy looked so good using the whisk. He used one arm to steady the bowl and the other to whip the mixture and his muscles were nicely bulging for the effort.

The sound of the microwave alerted Ian that the butter was melted and he added it with the milk to the mix. Now Mickey looked focused on his task and his arms seemed even stronger. Ian just wanted to touch his biceps. And he did.

He moved his fingertips along Mickey's arms, from the forearms to the biceps. He felt them stretching under his touches. Mickey was so, so sexy. He came closer, enough to put his lips on his neck, licking and sucking on a particular spot.

Mickey moaned, he was sensitive on his neck. Ian bit on it and Mickey's hand made a wrong movement, causing the mixture to spurt against their tank tops.

"Fuck!"

Ian laughed, putting some distance between them. He took off his top and nodded towards Mickey's. "Yours too."

Mickey chuckled, but he placed the bowl on the counter and took off his garment anyway. "Think I watched something similar in a porno. Think it also involved whipped cream."

"Of course there was whipped cream. We can go with the batter of the pancakes, though," Ian suggested. He dipped a finger in the sweet mixture, sucking on it in the most sensual way he could muster.

"We just fucked in the shower, man."

"Are you backing down?" Ian asked surprised.

"Nah, just wanting to state the obvious." Mickey shrugged, a nasty grin on his lips.

Ian dipped his finger again in the batter, but this time he brought it to Mickey's mouth, who stuck out his tongue to lick it.

"Sweet," Mickey muttered.

"You like 'em sweet."

"I do."

Their eyes met and Ian smiled at Mickey with affection. He kissed his forehead, his nose, again his neck. His hands were on Mickey's arms again, until they moved south and grabbed his firm ass, hauling it on the counter. Mickey gasped, but he soon tangled his legs against Ian's.

Ian moaned at their proximity. He grounded against Mickey, moving the other's hips to his liking. Mickey grabbed at his hair, pulling Ian's face close to his. He breathed against his lips and Ian thought he couldn't ask for something better for that moment, having Mickey clinging to him, brushing his lips against his own, their groins moving against each other.

"Take your damn boxers off," Mickey panted, pulling down Ian's waistband and raising his hips enough for Ian to remove them more easily. Mickey was so hard against him, their cocks rubbing together, creating that perfect friction between them, sending Ian to a feeling of pure pleasure. Ian couldn't move even if he wanted to, entrapped between Mickey's thick thighs, his heels pressed against his own ass.

"Mhn, Ian... fuck." Mickey leaned in to meet Ian's lips, enveloping him in a tight embrace made of naked limbs.

"You feel so good, Mick," Ian muttered. His hands were roaming on his back, feeling that warmth, inebriating himself with that fucking smell. "Wanna fuck you."

Mickey hummed, completely on board with Ian's idea.

 

***

 

With the music on, they weren't able to hear anything more than their moans. Yet, there were other sounds they should've been paying attention to in the house. The first, foreigner sound, was of the door opening. A man entered followed by a much younger blond woman, who wore a short, glittery top and an ever shorter skirt. They were both laughing, she holding a bottle of champagne and pouring the contents in the man's open mouth. Their conviviality was interrupted when the man heard the music. No one was supposed to be in the house and the only plausible explanation in the man's mind was that there was a break in.

"You stay the fuck here," he brusquely told the girl, who looked at him worriedly. She nodded.

The man moved rather lightly for someone of his bulk, making no sound. He gingerly opened the bottom drawer of one of the furniture down the hall. The gun was where he had left it last year. Good.

Getting closer to the kitchen, he heard other sounds. Laughter, moans. _Squatters?_ If someone had decided to take his fucking house as their summer residence they were sorely mistaken. His hands were already hitching for a fight. He switched the safety off and swiftly walked to the kitchen, where the noises were coming from. If they had scavenged his expensive collection of whiskeys there was going to be a fucking bloodbath.

What he saw in the kitchen was something he was not prepared for.

 

***

 

"Then fuck me," Mickey replied, nipping gently at his nose.

"What about the pancakes?"

"Fuck the pancakes," Mickey grunted, clutching his legs even tighter around Ian. The carrot top wasn't going anywhere but his ass.

Ian chuckled, bucking his hips against Mickey's, eliciting a loud moan from him. His fingers ran on Mickey's skin, slowly reaching for his rim. He was so lost in his blue eyes, in that fucking perfect moment that he almost didn't hear the voice whose words would've changed everything.

"What the fuck!"

Ian moved on instinct, detaching himself from Mickey and scrambling on the floor to retrieve his boxers and pull them on. It was a mechanical reaction, but his demeanor completely changed when he saw the man who had shouted. He was stout, with his shoulders hunched and a gun in his hand. A fucking gun. He looked like a bull ready to charge.

Ian side glanced at Mickey. What did Mickey want to do? Was it a robbery?

Yet the look in Mickey's eyes told him a different story. There was pure fear in them. His face was ghostly pale, drained of all the blood from his head. He seemed on the brim of passing out. From his reactions, Ian realized who that man was.

"Dad, hold on," he said with a shaky voice. He put some more distance from Ian, with his hands in front of him. "Hold on..."

Ian barely registered the identity of Terry Milkovich, before the man threw himself at him, jabbing him in the face with the butt of his gun.

"What were you doing to my boy, you fucking faggot!" he yelled, going for another punch. Ian tried to protect himself, but Terry had taken him by surprise and now he was in a position of advantage. The man was about to take another swing at him when he was stopped by Mickey. The guy had jumped on his back, trying to get his neck in a chokehold with his arm.

"Get the fuck off him!" Mickey screamed. Ian managed to move away from Terry's trajectory, but the man seemed to momentarily forget about him. His focus was now on how to free himself from his son's grip. “Let him go!”

Terry pushed back and Mickey screamed in pain when his back hit the cupboard with force. Mickey collapsed on the floor. His father was soon on him, transforming his face in a bloody pulp with his fists.

"No son of mine is gonna be a goddam AIDS monkey!" he shouted. Mickey tried to defend himself by pushing his hands against Terry's face, but his father was relentless and punched him even harder. Mickey got knocked out.

Ian tried to move as silently as he could to hit Terry from behind, but the man noticed him and was swift in pointing his gun at him.

"You're dead," Terry said with a glacial voice, so different from the heated one from before and yet equally frightening.

He shot and all Ian could think of was that he was going to die.

Instead the bullet only grazed the skin on his arm and the burning pain prompted Ian to run. In that moment he forgot about everything, even about Mickey. All his brain was telling him to do was to fucking move his feet. Fast. Faster.

Ian heard another shot and a woman’s scream and he jumped across the fence that divided the Milkovich's propriety from the neighbor's. Ian ran towards the back of their house. He knocked repeatedly on the door, but with no reply. The door wasn't locked and Ian barged in.

He could feel his mind in overdrive. It was too much, too fucking much. This wasn't happening. Was this happening? Was this an hallucination?

The pain on his arm made him remember that this was the reality. And that Terry was in the house with Mickey passed out.

Mickey was in danger. Terry was going to kill him.

Ian shook his head, he needed to stay focused. He looked around in the house for a phone. He needed to call the police.

"Stay where you are!" A voice shouted from the stairs. Ian looked up to see a bearded man armed with a tiny mop. He was trembling like a leaf. If Ian had been a thief it would've been the easiest robbery of his life, probably.

"I'm not a thief!" Ian raised his hands in a gesture of surrendering. "I'm staying at the house next to yours and a man with a gun broke in!"

"What!" The man looked at Ian, probably taking in his wounded arm and the fact that Ian was only wearing a pair of boxers.

"Please, you need to call the police!" Ian said, looking at the man with earnest eyes. "My friend is still in there, he's gonna kill him if you don't."

The neighbor nodded, letting the mop fall down on the stairs and taking out his phone instead.

 

***

 

The police arrived fast. As expected when someone from the rich neighborhood called for them.

The house was silent when the police forcefully entered. When the policemen came back, they shook their head at Ian.

"No one's here, sir."

Ian's eyes widened. "It's- it's impossible."

Ian made a run for the house, heading for the kitchen. No sign of Mickey or Terry there.

Just blood. Ian let himself falling on the floor, next to the scarlet stains.

It was there and then that Ian started to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I'm sorry? Don't tell me you weren't expecting that.  
>  Please, think about the happy moments they had in this chapter, not only the final one! 
> 
> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!  
> If you wanna chat or you have any questions: my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	25. Call me back, please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [2:21 AM]: Who's she  
> [5:35 AM]: Fuck you!  
> [1:50 PM]: please Mick. Call me back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, huh, sorry for the last chapter! I was fucking sad writing it.  
> I can't even tell you it's going to get better any time soon, but I promise I love happy endings and fics are fucking made for happy endings.

Ian scratched his jaw. He had a five-day stubble but he couldn't bring himself to care. It was already a huge effort remembering to take his meds. Ever since he got back from Florida Ian had spent his Summer vacation with the phone in his hand. He'd sleep with it on the pillow, he'd check on it when at the dinner table, he'd fucking leave it set at its highest volume when he had to take a shower.

But no reply ever came from Mickey.

Last time he had heard from him they had been in Mickey's house, making out against the kitchen counter. Until-

It had been a month since then and Ian had sent so many texts, had called so many times. He only knew Mickey was alive thanks to Mandy, who had answered at his first call.

He had called her as soon as he had gotten back in Texas. He had spent a few days in Florida searching for Mickey, even going to goddamn hospitals. Mickey had seemed to be vanished in thin hair together with his father and the woman Ian had heard screaming. Defeated and sleep-deprived, Ian had called Mandy, who had told him about Mickey even without Ian asking.

_"I swear I don't understand," she told him on the phone. "I got suspicious after all the times those two idiots told me Mickey was in the fucking bathroom. I mean, he was shitting himself every time I was skipeing with them? Bullshit."_

_Ian heard her rambling about Iggy and Colin and how stupid they were. They were the worst fucking liars in history. Ian managed to remain calm, but all he wanted to do was to cry and ask her if Mickey was okay._

_"Anyway. That fuckhead. I mean, why did he lie to me? He is with Pops in Washington DC. He could have just told me."_

_At those words, Ian went still. "What?"_

_"What?" Mandy repeated."I called him and told him I knew he wasn't eating fucking snails in Paris. Assface admitted the fucking truth. Finally. He has been with father the whole time. Can you believe it? With Pops! He told me that everything happened at the last minute or something. I don't know what the big secret was. I'd prefer him away from Pops, but... I mean, why lie, right?"_

_Ian wasn't saying anything and that worried her. "Ian? You still there?"_

_The redhead had a hand against his mouth, trying to hold in the sobs that threatened to escape. Mickey was... He was alive at least. In fucking Washington DC with Terry._

_"Yeah, yeah," he let out a sigh. "You seen him?"_

_"Huh, no. Just talked on the phone."_

_Fuck. How was he? The last time he saw his face it was bloody from Terry's fists. What was he doing in the city? Ian was feeling nauseous. Something in his head was screaming for danger and he couldn't wrap his head around the situation._

_"Ian? What's wrong? Ian?" Mandy sounded alarmed now._

_"I-I need to go," Ian interrupted the call abruptly. He got up and ran to the bathroom to puke._

From that day on, never a day had passed without Ian calling Mandy. Between his never answered calls to Mickey, hearing Mandy's voice was like drinking fresh water after having been lost in a desert. There were no news on Mickey's front but it was comforting to talk with his best friend.

 

**[3:00 PM]: Mick, please. Just call me.**

 

He had just sent a text to Mickey when Ian received a call from Mandy. Usually it was Ian to call her. He connected the call immediately.

"Yeah?"

"Mickey's back!" Mandy blurted out.

Ian's heart skipped a beat. "He is?"

"Yes, finally." She sighed. "Even if-"

"Even if what? Is he okay?"

"Let me fucking talk, will ya? He's okay, I guess. But... He seems changed? I hugged him but he didn't hug me back. He didn't even call me skank and that's kind of weird coming from Mickey, right?"

Ian managed to swallow that lump he was feeling down his throat. He wanted to see Mickey, wanted to see with his own eyes if he was okay.

"Where is he now?"

"Huh. Think he's still in his room. Said he was tired."

Ian bit his bottom lip. "Could you... Could I talk to him?"

"What? Yeah, sure. Don't you have his number?"

"Just do it." Ian snapped. He silently cursed, before taking a breath. "Just, please?"

Mandy remained silent for a few seconds. "Okay. Wait a sec."

Ian heard her climbing the stairs and opening Mickey's room without bothering to knock. Then nothing. Mandy must have had put her phone against herself and all the sounds Ian could hear were muffled. He tried to pay attention to what was probably Mickey's voice, but he failed.

"Ian?"

Mandy was talking to him again. A door closed.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, Ian. Mickey says he's too tired or some shit, but I think he's lying."

Of course he was. "Oh. Okay."

"Ian, did you two have a fight in Boston?"

 _A fight_. Ian scoffed. "There was a fight, yes." Just not between Mickey and him. And now Mickey had just come back home after spending one month with their aggressor.

"Want me to kick him for ya?" Mandy suggested. She didn't know what was going on, but she wanted to be there to comfort her best friend.

"Nah, Mands. Don't worry. It's nothing big," Ian lied through his teeth. "They're calling me from downstairs. Talk to you tomorrow?"

He could hear a little, worried smile from the other side of the phone. He didn't need to see his best friend to know her. "Yeah. Sure. Have a good night."

Ian composed and sent a text before closing his eyes and trying to suppress his tears.

 

**[6:52 PM]: I don't know what's happening but you're a coward.**

 

***

 

Ian was outside, melting under the sun. Something wet touched his shoulder and Ian let out a fragile smile.

"Hey, Billy." The pony stood next to him, silent as if he knew what Ian was going through. And maybe he did. Ian had never forgotten his comforting presence back when he had started getting treated.

Being with his family was a nightmare sometimes. They were worried about him and they'd ask to many questions. Ian didn't have any answers and that annoyed him even more. He didn't fucking know what was happening with Mickey and he had been on the verge of booking a flight to Chicago more times than he could count. He had never gone through it, though. Not since Mickey had never called him back.

Debbie approached him with Emily by her hand. He didn't even noticed her until she called for him.

"Ian! Want something for lunch?" she asked. Emily disentangled her hand from her mother's and hugged her uncle's legs instead. Ian caressed her curly hair.

"Not hungry."

"You're never hungry. Ever since you got back," she commented. She fidgeted with her hair, taking her time. She wanted to ask him something, but Ian didn't want to talk.

"Listen Debs, I'm fine. Really I-"

His phone buzzed and Ian answered. It was Mandy.

"Hey, girlfriend," he greeted her, with all the cheer he could muster.  Debbie was there and he didn't want to sound like a wreck. Which he was.

"Oh. My. God. Ian I need to tell you this!" she exclaimed.

"Tell me what?" Ian was afraid now, but she sounded more excited than worried. Maybe it was a good news?

"Okay, you won't believe this. I mean, I didn't either because Mickey is always in such a mood, but... No, I mean, it's really so strange, he never mentioned it before so who could have guessed-"

"Mands."

"Yeah, right. Mickey has a girlfriend! Can you believe it?"

 

***

 

Three weeks had passed since Mandy's call and Ian had felt a stab to his heart. He could still feel the pain of the open wound. It was not literal, yet it made his heart clench every time he thought about it. About her. About Mickey's girlfriend.

 

**[2:21 AM]: Who's she**

**[5:35 AM]: Fuck you!**

**[1:50 PM]: please Mick. Call me back**

 

Ian deleted all his sent messages. They were so many. And they had never received a reply.

He put his hands on his face, laying on the bed. The more he didn't want to think about it, the more Mandy's words echoed in his mind. Sometimes Ian just wanted to take more antipsychotics than the prescribed dosage to make him feel drowsy all day long. Yet, when he closed his eyes, he'd dream of Mickey with a girl. His girl. Sometimes she was sexy, others so pretty. Or ugly. It didn't matter to Ian. It was her who Mickey had in his arms.

_"I'm- What?"_

_"A girlfriend! A meet-my-family girlfriend! I was so surprised too. She's called Svetlana. We call her Lana. She's staying here in Chicago for a few days with her dad. I think I actually met her dad at the Christmas party. Pretty sure Pops introduced them Washington." She paused. Maybe she was shaking her head in disbelief. "I never thought I'd seen the day with Mickey having a stable relationship."_

_"He already had one," Ian burst out. They had been together for months, Mickey and he. It had been a stable fucking relationship. It had been the best period of his life. Of Mickey's too. Ian was sure._

_"Who? The girl he was seeing in college?" Mandy asked. "Yeah, but he never introduced her to me. So maybe it wasn't that important."_

_Mandy didn't know how much those words stung. Ian felt he couldn't breath, as if all the air in his lungs had disappeared. It wasn't important. It wasn't important. It wasn't important._

_It was!_

It was fucking important! Ian loved that guy.

Loved him so much.

He had never said it out loud, but his sentiment was there. He had made Mickey feel it every day they had been together. And Mickey had done the same thing. He couldn't have fake that. They didn't just like each other. They fucking loved each other. No words had never been needed.

Yet, now what they had had was not important. Now Mickey had a girlfriend. A real girl. Someone he could introduce to people.

After that call, Ian had refused to talk about Svetlana with Mandy. Whenever his best friend wanted to bitch about her, Ian would come up with another topic to divert her attention. Yet at the same time, Ian was starving to know everything there was to know about the woman. He hated himself for that. The redhead was glad he didn't know her last name, at least he wouldn't have become a stalker.

 

**[2:34 PM]: What's happening? Please call me**

 

Ian hated being this way. He hated not to know what was happening. In any other moment, Ian would've have told the guy to fuck off. Nobody was allowed to ignore him for so many weeks. But after he had seen what a monster Terry Milkovich was, Ian was worried sick about Mickey. It was not only how bad Mickey's face had looked under his father's fists. It was the fear in his eyes.

Ian had never understood before why Mickey was so scared and ashamed of his sexuality. Not entirely. Ian's sufferings due to being gay were nothing in comparison to Mickey's. His family loved him. Mickey's father had looked at his own son as if he were trash. Even worse, probably.

 

**[5:55 PM]: I just need to know you're ok**

 

Mickey’s birthday came and passed. Ian had had so much in store for him. He had wanted to take Mickey out to dinner, wooing him until he was fucking embarrassed and make love to him. Instead now he was in his room with his goddamn phone in his hand, texting Mickey.

 

**[7:32 AM]: Happy Birthday. Wish you were here.**

 

***

 

A week later Fiona was calling him for dinner. Ian told her he was coming down, but he wasn't hungry. He was never hungry. The only food he wanted to taste were the pancakes they had never finished to make, back in Florida. Or the juicy steak Mickey had grilled in that ridiculous apron. Or those snacks Mickey'd prepare for him when Ian had to take his pills.

_Fuck ._

He needed to talk with Mickey. Ian took out his phone, calling Mandy. He was going to make her force Mickey to answer his call. If she had asked, he would've even told her the truth. Everything. Mickey be damned. It was the price to pay since he hadn't replied to not even one of his texts.

Ian waited for about five seconds before Mandy answered.

"Ian!" she shouted. "That's telepathy or some shit! I was going to call you like right now!"

"Yeah, sorry I couldn't wait anymore-"

"Me too! Listen, I was thinking. We talk like every day and I miss you so much! So, I mean, I want see you. What do you say? Wanna come here? I'm usually at my aunt's but sometimes I gotta stay at home and it sucks. Why don't you keep me company? At least for a little while! I don't know why I didn't think about it before."

Ian had his mouth open to talk, to tell her to put Mickey through. But Mandy's words made him pause.

"I mean, Pops' birthday is like in three days and I don't want to be alone. My brothers will be all too busy wagging their tails for dad, so... Oh and Lana's coming too. I want your opinion on her, finally!"

One thousand thoughts were swirling in his head, but in the end the result was clear.

"Of course I'm coming."

The time to wait for Mickey had to end. Now it was the moment to face him, whatever the consequences.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short chapter but I'll post the next one tomorrow :)
> 
> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!  
> If you wanna chat or you have any questions: my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	26. You're not free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're smart, you're funny, you're beautiful, you want to be an architect, you don't care about politics, you don't want to marry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as I promised, here's chapter 26
> 
> btw. Should i put a warning for graphic violence? It's about chapter 24. I think I didn't go so much into details. What do you think?

The suffocating heat of the Summer in Chicago felt familiar on Ian's sweaty skin. It made him feel nostalgic of the parties his family used to host, or the piss warm pool they used to set up in the backyard. Ian smiled a little at the thought. So many things had changed since then. Years had passed. And no Gallagher was the same as they were back in Canaryville. What remained the same, was the love they had for each others.

Ian had arrived the night before and Mandy had come to take him at the airport. She had invited him to stay with her at her aunt Rand's house, which had always felt more like home than the one she was supposed to live in. They had spent the night talking and watching television and Ian had tried to appear relaxed. But there was no faking with Mandy, at least when it came to hide Ian's bad mood.

"Lunch is ready," Mandy said. Ian almost didn't hear. He was lost in his thoughts, smoking a cigarette without tasting it. She frowned at him and sighed. "Ian!"

The redhead took notice of her and nodded. "Coming right up."

She remained silent while Ian stub out his cigarette in the ashtray. When Ian looked at her, she gave him a soft smile.

"You know you can always tell me what's bothering you, right?"

Ian bit his lips at her words. He wasn't surprised she knew something was wrong with him, he just wasn't ready to tell her. Not that day. The day after they were going to the Milkovich's for Terry's birthday. Ian hadn't wanted to go at first, he had wanted to get to Mickey in a more quiet situation. He had made up all sort of excuses, like that he was scared of what she had told him about her dad. But Mandy had assured him there were going to be so many people Terry wouldn't even notice him. Ian had decided not to talk to her about how he'd already met her dad so he had just nodded and accepted her invitation. Tomorrow Ian would have finally talked with Mickey, everything else had to be postponed until then.

"I know," Ian decided to reply.

She nodded. From the way she let the argument go, it was clear she had not expected to receive an explanation.

She took his arm in hers. "Just a heads-up: aunt is a shitty cook. But she tries hard so indulge her a little."

Ian chuckled, bracing himself for the saltiest ribs he had ever tasted. Or that he had hidden in the napkins when aunt Rand was not looking.

 

***

 

Mandy had not exaggerated when she had told him there were going to be many guests. She had actually minimized their number, since they were a fucking multitude. Ian felt more reassured Terry wouldn't recognize him. Plus there were columns where to hide behind. _ Fucking columns _ _._ Who the fuck put columns in their house? A fucking megalomaniac, that's who. It was all so opulent and expensive it made Ian crave for his old house in the city.

Ian was dressed for the occasion, with gray slacks and a deep green button-down shirt. Mandy had insisted for him to wear something green and he knew Mickey thought the same way. He grabbed a glass of white wine from the trail that one of the waiters was moving around the hall. He knew it wasn't a good idea to drink alcohol but he had to put at least that much inside him. Ian was feeling nervous as fuck and he knew it had nothing to do with his brain's chemistry, but rather with the knowledge that Mickey was in the room as well.

Ian looked around for him, but he saw Terry instead. That smug face, that horrible grin. He was acting as if he was the king in his castle. Ian ducked before the bastard could get a whiff of him.

And then he saw Mickey.

Ian felt his heart beating faster in his chest when he caught a glimpse of black hair. Mickey was well dressed, talking with a group of man, feigning interest in the conversation. But Ian knew better. His right hand was clenched in a fist and his smile was strained. Ian forgot for a second why he was there and all he wanted was to caress his hair in a soothing gesture.

As if Mickey could sense Ian's thoughts, he turned his head in Ian's direction. His blue eyes widened at  the sight of the redhead. At first they shone with surprise and relief, but fear immediately took their place and all Ian could see in Mickey's eyes was alarm. Mickey looked around in a nervous movement. He was checking for any sight of his father, Ian realized.

With Terry not in sight, Mickey took his leave from his company with polite words. He then nodded towards the stairs. Mickey didn't wait for Ian to give him a confirmation but climbed the steps as fast as he could without attracting anyone's attention. Ian followed through.

The redhead hadn't even reached the last step before Mickey pulled his arm with force, obligating Ian to stumble behind him.

"Mick, wait-"

Mickey opened a door and closed it behind them as soon as they were inside. Ian's words died on his tongue when he realized where he was. It was Mickey's bedroom, no doubt. It was covered in posters of bands and movies Mickey liked and his worn clothes were abandoned on the floor. And the smell. That was unmistakable. Ian immediately felt more comfortable in that room.

Yet that moment of peace was interrupted by his own thoughts. He was here for a precise reason, which was standing right in front of him, pacing on the floor like a caged animal.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Mickey blurted out. He was edgy and he was sweating and Ian didn't know anymore if he was worried about him or just fucking angry. In his stupid White Knight fantasy Ian had almost seen Mickey as a princess to save. But there Mickey was and it didn't look like he was going to thank Ian for barging into the castle any time soon.

"What'd you think? I'm... Fuck, why did you never reply to my texts? Answer my fucking calls?" Ian wanted to sound composed, in control. But his voice was unstable at his own ears. His fingers itched to touch Mickey and his eyes were scanning Mickey's face, trying to notice any fading bruise or scar from the fight with Terry. He saw nothing but Mickey worrying his lips.

Mickey didn't look at him when he spoke. "I-I know you're in contact with Mandy, so..."

"So it's okay to make me worry sick about you for two fucking months?!" Ian shouted. Mickey's eyes darted to the door. Ian snickered. "There's no one hearing us, Mick."

Mickey looked ashamed for a moment. He readjusted his face the second after. "Mandy told you I was fine, what more do you want?"

Ian was shocked. He had played so many scenarios in his head, but this. _ This _ was not right. "I wanted _ you _ , to tell me you were okay. And you're not okay, Mick! What the fuck is happening? Who's this girl? Why didn't you contact me?"

Ian couldn't keep his calm. He wanted to, but it was impossible. Mickey was keeping himself at a safe distance and he looked nothing like the guy he had made love to in Florida. This in front of him was the same guy of the beginning of their relationship, the one scared of a single affectionate touch, the one who couldn't look Ian in the eyes. What had Terry done to him? He had caused his son to revert to his own afraid, lonely self.

Mickey shrugged. "Cause it was useless. Can't have anything to do with you now, anyway. Better start soon."

"What does that even mean?" Ian asked. Mickey was looking at some point behind Ian. He looked in pain telling him that shit, but his voice never faltered.

"It means..." Mickey bit his bottom lip. He grabbed something from a pocket in his slacks. "Mandy told you about Svetlana."

He opened his hand, revealing the object on his palm. It was a small velvet box. Mickey didn't need to open it to make Ian understand the content.

"You can't do this," Ian whispered, his eyes glued to the box. Mickey pocketed it right away.

"I can. I have to."

"No, Mick. You can always-"

"She's pregnant," Mickey said in a sigh.

_ She's... _

"What?" Ian asked. Mickey's words still not registering in his mind. "But you're not... How...?"

Mickey bitterly chuckled. "Pops got the fag out of me," he mumbled. But then his voice was firmer. "My dick still works with pussy, I guess."

"And you're gonna fucking marry her? What the fuck!" Ian's head was bursting.

"She's from some orthodox family or some shit, she wants to keep the baby. Our fathers already know and they seem pretty happy about it, so...  Doesn't change much, right? I was gonna get married and have kids someday, anyways. It just happened sooner than I expected." Mickey nodded, as if to convince himself of his own words. "I just wanted to keep having some fun for a little while longer. Not the case anymore. Plus her father has connections with the White House. I mean, I scored big time. My political career is secured now."

Ian would've spat in his face, if not for the fact that he could see how much Mickey was hurting. It was clear as a day for Ian. Mickey's tone of voice was light, but his eyes were wet and fixed on the floor. His satisfied smile was fake compared to the smiles Ian well knew Mickey was capable of. Mickey was fucking broken and all Ian wanted was to hug Mickey so tight they couldn't breath and tell him that it was okay, that he understood what Mickey was going through and he was here to take care of him. That he wanted to take Mickey away with him.

"Mickey..." Ian's tone was so soft and unexpected at Mickey's ears that the other guy looked up at the redhead and their eyes met once again. His blue eyes were too expressive and pure to lie. Mickey could talk shit and use his fists, but his eyes always conveyed what he was really thinking. And this time he was scared out of his mind.

"Mick, you don't need to do this," Ian said. "It's your life. Your own, fucking life. You can't let him decide for you, don't let him trap you in something that you don't want."

Ian came closer. Mickey stiffed, but didn't back off. It gave Ian enough courage to rest a hand against Mickey's cheek.

"You're smart, you're funny, you're beautiful, you want to be an architect, you don't care about politics, you don't want to marry." Before Mickey could protest, Ian continued. "You can come with me. I got money, I can protect you. I want to. Let me do that."

Mickey shook his head, pulling back from Ian's hand. "You make it sound so easy. You met my dad, Ian. I cannot go against him. And neither can you. I'll just marry the girl, have a kid. Everyone's happy."

"Not you," Ian whispered.

Mickey snorted. "It's just a fucking piece of paper. It just means I'll have to share a house with her. I'm fucked up for life anyway. Who fucking cares?"

"I do!" Ian blurted out. "And you should too! Mick, it's not just a piece of paper, it's a fucking commitment and you're doing it to a woman! You don't love her, you're not even straight, for fuck's sake!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"You're gay Mickey, just fucking admit it!"

"I said shut up!"

This time Mickey's words were accompanied by his fist. Ian was caught unprepared for it and he stumbled back. He almost didn't have time to recollect himself that Mickey was on him again. He tried to press Ian against the wall but Ian's self-defense reflexes helped him to free himself before he was cornered for good and kneed him in the stomach. Mickey cursed but before he could reiterate, Ian had him pinned on the floor.

"What the fuck are you doing Mickey?!" Ian shouted. He got distracted waiting for an answer, and Mickey managed to flip them. Mickey was now in a position of advantage and he punched Ian.

"You don't know anything, Ian! You make big talks and what? Leave me the fuck alone, live your rainbow life and don't come here ever again!"

Ian caught Mickey's fist and, with a motion of his leg, reverted once again their positions.

"I don't want to!" growled Ian, keeping Mickey's wrists on the floor. But Mickey raised his neck and headbutted him, causing Ian to lose his control.

"Well, too bad," he spat. "I don't need no rescue. It's all fucking peachy here."

He motioned to get up, but Ian didn't let him. He put his whole weight on Mickey. His head hurt but he was still not ready to let him go. Their eyes met. They were panting from the fight. Ian had a sense of deja-vu from the first time they had discovered each other. Only this time Ian was on top of Mickey.

"Mickey-"

"Shut the fuck up." There was no snarl in his voice. His tone was soft, almost quiet. Mickey put his freed hands on Ian's neck, pulling him down making their lips meet again. Ian forgot whatever he had wanted to say, lost in that kiss that was long overdue. He pressed himself against Mickey, trapping the black haired man under his weight. This time only because Ian wanted to feel him and knew Mickey desired the same thing. Their kissing became passionate in no time, it was a duel of tongues and lips and feel more. More. More of the other's breath, saliva, skin, voice. They captured every moan the other emitted in their mouths. It had been two months, and Ian was fucking starving. He pulled back from the kiss only to unbutton his shirt and Mickey did the same.

"Fuck. Fuck." Mickey unbuckled Ian's belt, taking off his slacks together with his boxer briefs in one go. He licked his lips watching Ian's cock, already hard for him. Yet he didn't do anything about it, but lifted his hips high enough to take off his own pants. Ian helped through that, pressing against Mickey's body now that they were both almost naked. They both gasped at the feeling of their groins touching, making friction.

"Lube. Where's the lube," Ian groaned. He couldn't believe himself. He had been fighting with Mickey just a minute before and now he was worried to hurt Mickey without lube. Ian wanted to laugh.

Mickey nodded and scrambled from under Ian to reach for the nightstand. He grabbed the lube. And then he grabbed a condom. He tossed the latter to Ian and sat on the bed. He squirted some lube on his hand and proceeded to fuck himself with his fingers. He did it roughly, fast, like Ian would never do to him. The redhead was standing in front of Mickey, watching him prepare himself in a hurry, not caring for his own winces of pain.

As soon as Mickey pulled out his fingers, he wrapped them around Ian's cock covered with the condom and stroked it with his slick hand. He looked at Ian with an expression that Ian could not decipher, before moving on the bed on his hands and knees. He presented his ass to Ian, waiting for him, almost shivering from want.

Ian didn't resist any longer and pushed inside of Mickey. He could sense that Mickey wanted it hard, rough, maybe painful. Instead Ian wished to love him through it, making him feel how much he cared, how much he was serious, how much he wanted to take him away from it all. But once Ian was inside his heat, Mickey clenched around him, hurrying him to move faster.

"Please... Ian. Fuck. Please." Mickey pushed a hand back to grip at Ian's ass. He thrust against him, hard, with want. Ian could nothing but to follow his frantic movements, giving Mickey what he wanted.

"Yes! Hard! There, yes there..." Mickey was a shivering mess under him. Ian had maybe wanted to take it slow before, but now he was slamming inside relentless. He was feeling Mickey's heat around him, he could inhale his smell, even though partially covered by a hint of cologne. Ian licked the pearls of sweat trailing down his nape and then bit hard on it, right in the junction between the neck and the shoulder. Mickey give out a little cry, half for the pain, half for the pleasure. He gave himself a few strokes, coming hard moments later. But Ian still hadn't finished and kept on fucking Mickey until he reached his own climax. After he had released his come in the condom, Ian collapsed on Mickey's back.

They remained in that position while regaining their breath and for a second it almost felt as if they were in Ian's bedroom, feeling safe and happy. But the moment didn't last and Ian rolled out of Mickey, sitting up on the mattress.

They fell silent and Mickey grabbed a cigarette. He lit it up, inhaling once before passing it to Ian.

"You have to come with me," said Ian, breathing out the smoke.

Mickey sighed. "Ian-"

"No. Listen to me. You don't love her and you don't owe shit to that monster. For the baby... We will do something about it. But please, let's get out of here." Ian's voice tried to be calm, but his emotions were taking the upper part.

Mickey shook his head. "No." He stood up to grab his clothes and tossed Ian's own to the redhead. "This is how it's gonna be. Now I'm going downstairs and you, you are going home. I'm not going back to Boston, my future father-in-law will take me to Washington DC."

He finished to button up his shirt and grimaced. It was in a terrible state. He tossed it on the floor and took another one, dry and clean. "We're not seeing each other again."

The finality in his voice shocked Ian, who stood up with his slacks hanging low and unbuckled on his hips. "You don't mean that."

Ian couldn't believe Mickey's words, but even his eyes were telling the same story. They weren't stern, but incredibly sad and that made Ian think that this was really the end.

"I do. I'm going into politics, I can't have you in my life. It's gonna be easier. For you too."

Ian shook his head. "It's not."

Mickey raised his hands, exasperated. "What am I supposed to do, Ian? This is it."

"You can't accept it!"

"Why not?!"

"Because you're not free!" Ian blurted out. His shoulders were hunched, as if he was ready for another fight, but he still wasn't prepared for Mickey shoving him.

"I know! I've never been free! And I never will, Ian. Why don't you fucking get it!" His voice, which had come out as aggressive and loud, lost his strength by the end of the sentence. It was shakier when Mickey spoke again. "I thought I was, free. For a little time, but my dad made me remember."

"Mickey..." Ian tried to come closer, but Mickey pulled back.

"Just get out, Gallagher."

Mickey, who was already dressed, went for the door leaving it open. Ian remained with the shirt still open. His head was spinning and his legs were on the verge of giving up. He sat on the bed, trying to do his breathing exercise.

_ One two three four. _

Mickey had just broken up with him for good.

_ One two three four. _

This wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. He was imagining it.

_ One two three four. _

They were still together. No, they were not. It was the end.

_ One two three four. _

"Fuck!" Ian shouted.

 

***

 

The first thing Ian did as soon as he was out of the bedroom was storming off to the open bar. He needed to get the hell out of that house, but he desired alcohol at the same time. Plus there was some deep, masochist thought in his head that was telling him to stay. Just a little bit longer. Just to know what Mickey was going to do.

It appeared Ian didn't have to wait that much longer. He soon took notice that the open bar was deserted except for the barman and he heard murmuring coming from the adjacent hall. His heart started beating faster, like it knew what was happening just a few feet from Ian.

The guests were all gathered around something and Ian pushed his way through.

He heard some whispering:

"So young!"

"No, it's good to tie the knot at that age. He needs stability for his career."

Finally Ian reached the center of the attention and he was greeted by a sight that could only belong in his worst nightmares.

_ "That's the most idiotic thing one could do, really," Mickey commented throwing a pop corn at the screen. It was showing a romantic scene with the man kneeled in front of his beloved girlfriend, asking her to be his wife with a big fat diamond ring. _

_ Ian chuckled. "Oh, c'mon it's romantic!" _

_ "No it's not. It's for fucking sap like you. Asking to marry someone, kneeling down... tsk." _

_ "You'd prefer to be the one the other kneels down for?" _

_ Mickey elbowed Ian in the side. "Fuck you. No! It's fucking stupid either way. I should have a gun pointed to my head to do something like that." _

There was no gun pointed against Mickey's temple, but he was nevertheless down on his knees, with the open box in his hand. Ian could see the diamond shining from where he was standing. Mickey must have spoken before, because now the girl was nodding, giving him her hand. With a lump in his throat, Ian saw Mickey standing up and putting a ring to her finger. He wasn't smiling, he was carrying on his duty. The redhead spent a moment to look at the fiancee. She seemed happy, not enthusiast happy, but enough to make all the guests around them clap their hands. She was pretty, a few years older than Mickey as well as taller than him. The two didn't match at all and everything in Ian was compelling him to scream it, tell everyone how much they shouldn't be together. That Mickey belonged to him.

Only, he didn't.

Ian looked away from the couple and his eyes met Terry's. From the man's expression Ian knew he had recognized him. Ian was ready for a fight. He wanted it even. Against Terry. Against everything he represented.

Yet Terry didn't flinch. He remained in his position and smirked at Ian. He fucking smirked.

The meaning was clear. Terry had won.

Ian felt his eyes watering at the thought. He tried to hold the tears back, he couldn't cry. Not now.

That didn't mean that he should stay and continue watching the scene any longer. His heart couldn't take it for much longer.

He went back in a hurry, causing people to complain for his rudeness. Fuck them.

A waiter was passing by with a cart. He was bringing flutes and a bucket containing a bottle of champagne, no doubt to bring to the guests to celebrate the joyful news. Ian didn't think twice about it before snatching the bottle from the bucket and taking a huge gulp from its neck. The waiter yelled after him, but Ian just flipped him off and went for the main door.

"Ian!"

He had just opened the door when another voice yelled at him. A familiar, female one.

Mandy came closer to him, visibly worried. Ian could feel his tears ready to fall down. He was at his wit's end and he needed to talk to someone. No more lies.

"He can't do that, Mands. He can't," he muttered, taking another sip from the bottle.

"What? Who you talking about?" Mandy asked, confused.

"I... Mickey can't marry her. He belongs to me."

 

***

 

On their way to her aunt's home, Mandy discovered something she had never suspected. How could she have been so stupid? She knew that both her brother and her best friend had a special someone, what she didn't know was that they were each other's special someone.

"And Mands, it was so good... we danced and- Mick was so normal you know? So happy. We were fucking happy."

Ian was telling her about their little trip in San Antonio, giving her more details than what she would've like to know about her brother. Yet the way he talked about him was something so new to her. She loved her brother. Iggy and Colin loved him too. But Ian was something else. Ian loved her brother deeply, passionately and it was easy to guess that just from his words.

Ian brought the bottle neck to his lips, chugging down the champagne. Mandy hadn't managed yet to snatch the bottle from his grasp, since she was busy with keeping Ian steady while walking and talking. And crying and laughing. Because yes, Ian's tears were flowing but his mouth was curved in a nostalgic smile.

"You should have seen him with that cowboy hat, he-" A hiccup stopped him and Mandy sighed in relief because they were approaching the house. She helped him to her room, on her bed. Ian followed her directions without a thought, like a broken doll.

Mandy smiled at him, with tenderness. She took the almost empty bottle from his hand and placed it on the floor, far away as possible from Ian.

"Ian..." she said softly, resting her hands on Ian's wet cheeks. "I'm so, so sorry."

At her words Ian lost his smile and let the crying take over. She had never seen him so miserable and all she wanted was to comfort his friend. Holding him in her arms, she thought back of the small hints that she could have used to link Ian and her brother together. She didn't know if she could have saved the situation but now it was too late. She was with Ian at the moment, but at the same time she wanted to hug Mickey too. She didn't like what he was doing, but she could partly understand his reasons. She was a Milkovich too. She was born under the same roof and she had been crushed by the same man for her whole life.

"I was raped," she discovered herself saying. Ian looked at her with shock in his eyes. "More than once. I got pregnant and I aborted it past after the normal twelve weeks. I couldn't believe I was... Terry paid for it. It happened in such an awful place and..."

Mandy felt wetness on her own cheeks and she discovered that she was crying too. Only her brothers knew it, but this was the first time she was telling it to someone. "I started hanging out with a girl who had a similar experience to mine and I met her friends and, and Troy. They were -they still are- rich junkies and I was part of 'em. We used to do smack and I'd spend my time locked in some room with them just using and fucking. Mickey and Iggy found me. After that I spent some time in a rehabilitation  center."

She surprised herself being able to finish her story without breaking down. She didn't even know if it was the time and place to tell Ian something like that, but the words had just escaped from her mouth.

"Ian, sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have-"

Mandy didn't get to finish her sentence, that Ian enveloped her in a tight embrace.

"I had no idea, Mands," he whispered against her head. He kissed her temple, not leaving her for a moment.

They spent that night talking and crying. Sometimes laughing because they would always try to make the other smile, even if for a second. Mandy refused to tell Ian more about her pregnancy, but she told him various anecdotes about her rehabilitation and of the other guests in the center. Ian was pretty sure one of them must have been Frank. Ian told her everything about him and Mickey. About their fights and about their happiness and about tender gestures she didn't know her brother had been capable of.

They feel asleep still clinging onto each other. Before his eyes closed, Ian asked.

"What am I going to do with Mickey now? Is this it?"

Mandy caressed him tenderly. "I don't know Ian. I really don't," she replied in a whisper.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!  
> If you wanna chat or you have any questions: my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	27. His scent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If anyone here knows why these two people should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The day had finally come. Mickey was getting married. To a woman. A fucking commie.

The church was full of people, everyone was waiting for the lovely couple to show. The usher asked Ian if he wanted to sit on the bride or groom's side. Ian only wanted to puke.

He looked around for Mickey, but he was nowhere to be found. He noticed a door left ajar, a light coming from its crack. With silent steps, Ian reached for the door and pushed it open. A small sigh of relief escaped him when he saw Mickey inside. Mickey was pacing, but when he took notice of the redhead, he smiled at him.

"Hey, Gallagher. What's up?"

Ian looked at him confused. _What's up?_ What kind of question was that? Ian's heart was fucking aching, how come Mickey could just stand there all cool and shit?

"Mick, you're getting married," Ian whispered.

Mickey nodded "Yup." He was in front of a mirror, trying to adjust his bow tie. "Damn. Mind helping?"

The redhead was at a loss for words. Confused, he decided to help him. He was standing so close to Mickey now. He just had to lean down to kiss him. He wanted to touch those lips so much. But Mickey wasn't even looking at him, he was just trying to see his reflection in the mirror and nodded when he was satisfied.

"Thanks, man. Don't want to make the crowd laugh at me, you know," Mickey said. Ian watched him passing his hands through his hair to remodel it. "Fucking Mandy put too much gel."

Ian couldn't understand how Mickey's only concerns were about his appearance.

"You're about to get married to Svetlana. A woman," Ian tried to argue.

"No shit." Mickey chuckled. "Quite a catch, right? I mean, she's taller than me and she drinks me under the table. But overall she's pretty."

"She's a woman," Ian repeated

Mickey cocked his eyebrows. "Yeah? I'm not a fag, Gallagher. I like banging dudes, but I'm straight. Have to be, you know. With my father, and a career in the conservative party... Gotta have a kid in a few months, too."

Not hearing anything from Ian, Mickey patted his shoulder and went for the door. "I had fun with ya, I think it's alright if you sit on my side of the aisle."

With those words, Mickey left the room and slammed the door behind him. Ian collapsed on the floor.  Why Mickey seemed so chill about the wedding? Why was he going through it? Why? What was happening?

Ian got up and opened the door. The light was so fucking blinding, his eyes took a few moments before  focusing on the scene in front of him. Mickey and Svetlana were standing in front of each other, both smiling happily at each other, their hands intertwined.

The pastor cleared his throat and asked

"If anyone here knows why these two people should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Ian opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He tried to scream, but he couldn't emit any noise. Ian felt cold sweat on his skin. He was panicking. Then he noticed that someone was looking at him. Terry Milkovich smirked, a smug look on his face. He started to laugh and the sound reverberated through the church. It was so loud that Ian felt his ears bleeding. He brought his hands on them to stop the blood, but it was all for nothing. He looked at Mickey, but the man had his eyes set on his bride. He felt powerless and in pain and all he wanted was for everything to end...

"FUCK!"

Ian opened his eyes. The room was dark but he recognized it as his own bedroom, in Boston. Outside he could hear a bunch of guys laughing, some were blowing fucking whistles.

He sighed.

The redhead had barely woken up and he was in a pool of sweat. The nightmare he had just had was probably one of the most realistic bad dreams of the 'Mickey is gonna get hitched' Collection. Three nights ago Ian had dreamed they were flowing in outer space: Mickey was hand in hand with Svetlana and he and Terry were without an oxygen mask. Mickey hadn't thought it twice before giving the last one to his dad.

Ian groaned, massaging his ears. They weren't bleeding but he was feeling a big ass headache coming. He got up from the bed and stumbled towards the kitchen. He opened the fridge to grab a water bottle and took a huge sip from it.

Three weeks before the wedding. Only three fucking weeks and Mickey would become a married man. After that, a father. Ian felt sick just at the thought.

He hadn't had any contact with Mickey since he had proposed to Svetlana. Mickey had never tried to call him and Ian had refused to continue humiliating himself. It didn't mean that Ian had stopped thinking about him, about this fucked up situation.

Ian knew it would be so much better to forget.

_Yeah, just forget._

Ian scoffed at the thought. Like it was easy. Ever since he had gotten back to college, Ian hadn't been able to stop himself from thinking about that fuckhead even if he tried. The whole fucking campus reminisced him of Mickey. The fucking frat house, the fucking alleys, the fucking benches, the fucking coffee shop. Ian had tried with all his might to not go near the janitor closet. Not that it would change much. His own fucking apartment had Mickey all over it. In the cupboard there was still Mickey's favorite cereal brand. The mug that Mickey used for his coffee was left untouched from other lips. The bathroom was so tidy without Mickey's presence that Ian longed for the mess the guy was so easy to make. And the bedroom. Part of Mickey stuff was still there and Ian didn't have it in him to throw everything out. Almost as if by doing it he would've lost Mickey completely.

Ian was still sleepy, the antipsychotics helping in making him feel so drowsy. He decided to go bed and try to get some dreamless sleep.

 

***

 

Coming back after lesson, Ian was greeted by the sound of a Mario Kart game. Two people were playing on the couch, both too taken by winning the race to notice Ian. Ian felt his heart drop down to his stomach when reality sank in and Ian saw that they were Alan and Mandy. Not Alan and Mickey.

Ian had to fake a smile to conceal the disappointed he was feeling inside.

Mandy finally took notice of him and pressed the pause button to go greeting her best friend.

"Heyyy! She took his hand. “Al and I were feeling like Chinese, you in?"

Ian looked at Alan with a cocked eyebrow. It perfectly conveyed the question: "Really?". The night before, Mandy and Ian had gone to a study group and they had eaten with the other students. Alan had stayed home instead, and he had ordered Chinese. Ian was pretty sure there was still a noodle box somewhere in the fridge.

Alan cowered under Ian's look, but then he shrugged. Ian scoffed. Ever since Mandy had started to be a recurring presence in their apartment, Alan had changed. Not changed like he had become extrovert or easy going, but he was doing these little things that made Ian smile. Alan would always take notice of what Mandy liked to eat, what food she preferred and he'd always let her have it. Like the last time they had eaten Indian. Mandy had been enthusiast about the samosas and Alan hadn't touch them, always under Ian's scrutiny who knew pretty damn well how much Alan liked samosas. Alan would also never complain about Mandy's movie choices, or about Mandy's music, or Mandy being too loud while he was reading or studying. Mandy had even once told Ian that she thought Alan was laid back and Ian had to refrain himself from laughing.

Because Alan was far from laid back. He was just really hyper-aware of Mandy.

Ian was glad that Alan had a crush on Mandy. He fucking loved Mandy, she was his best friend and an amazing person. But she didn't appear to notice Alan's behavior towards her, she just looked comfortable around him. At any other time, Ian would've meddled in acting as an annoying Cupid between them. Now though, love was something he didn't want to have anything to do with.

Especially not when Mandy looked so fucking much like her brother.

Why did they have to sport the same eyes? It was so not fair.

Even in this moment, when Mandy was looking at him waiting for an answer, those fucking limpid blue eyes...

"Huh Chinese? Alright," Ian replied, recollecting himself. "Al, you sure though? You had it yesterday."

"What?" Mandy seemed surprised. "You could have told me!"

Alan simply shrugged (managing to sneak a death glare to Ian). "I didn't get the spring rolls the other night. I feel like spring rolls now."

Mandy looked at him for a few seconds, deciding if she should believe him or not. "Okay, but next time tell me." To make her point more clear she punched him on the arm, just like she would've done to Ian or her brother. Except that Alan fucking blushed. Mandy didn't see it because she was taking out her phone, but Ian did. God, and he was the lame one, huh?

When the Chinese take out arrived, they had already started watching a zombie movie. Nothing beat eating meat dipped in strange sauces while watching brains being scattered all over the place.

Chick flicks were banned as well as any other movies with love and angst being the main plot. Mandy had sensed Ian couldn't stomach both comedy love as well as tragic one. Ever since they had started their sophomore year, Mandy had always tried to take Ian's mind off Mickey. Together with Alan they were like the 'let's comfort Ian' squad. If a squad can be formed by only two members. Maybe a duo.

Ian appreciated their efforts, he did. But even if they managed to make Ian laugh, they failed to make Ian miss Mickey less.

Sometimes it was even Mandy's fault for Ian remembering him. She usually paid attention to not mention Mickey, but sometimes she would comment over something and her brother would pop up in  it. Ian wanted to appear tough, to dismiss Mandy's apologies with a light gesture. But his mood would inevitably lower down.

Even though Ian loved having his two friends with him, trying to cheer him up, sometimes he wished he were alone. Especially once or twice, like when he had overheard a conversation between them with Mickey as the main point.

They had thought Ian was in the bathroom, since the shower was on. But Ian had forgotten to bring a change of underwear and he had gone back to his room. Only that when he had heard the name Mickey being mentioned, he had had to eavesdrop.

_"I'm so worried about him, Al," Mandy said with a sad voice, so different from the cheerful one she would use around Ian. "He drinks too much and I haven't seen him smile since... I don't know, his graduation."_

_"Have you talked to him recently?" asked Alan. Even though Alan would act like he didn't miss Mickey, that was far from the truth. He probably missed even the guy's mess._

_Mandy nodded. "Yes. Yesterday. You know, it's fucking hard not to just tell him that I know, but I fear he'd stop talking to me altogether. But sometimes he asks me about 'my boyfriend' and I don't know what to say."_

_"I don't know either," Alan said with a sigh._

_"I want to make things better for them, and it's so frustrating I can't. Pops has Mickey terrified of him. I doubt Mick will ever do something against his will."_

_Mandy scooted closer on the couch, hugging Alan for a bit of comfort. The guy clearly didn't know how to behave, and Ian didn't stay any longer to watch Alan struggling to pat Mandy on the back._

 

_***_

 

Ian remembered that he had cried in the shower. And that the pillow Mickey used to sleep on had seemed to smell so much like him that night.

Even now, at three weeks from the wedding, Ian pressed his face against the pillow, trying to inhale Mickey's scent. It was long gone now, the sheets had been washed and time had passed. Still, it had become a sort of habit Ian had taken since he had come back to campus.

Fuck, the bedroom was the worst place possible to be when he didn't want to think about Mickey. They had shared the room for weeks. Ian would wake up with Mickey in his arms and he would kiss his neck. He missed that warm body against his own so fucking much. Even Mickey's cold feet, which were actually pretty nice during the warmer months.

Ian groaned. He wanted Mickey in his bed. In _their_ bed, actually. Mickey on his side of the bed and Ian all over him simply because he could.

Ian had tried to convince himself that Mickey was not worth it, that their relationship had been on and off too many times. They had actually never even called it 'relationship' once. But who was he fooling? Himself? Mickey had become too important, too engraved in his heart to dismiss the thought of him as one of his exes or whatever. Mickey had been - _was_ \- more than that. And Ian knew he had to be the same for Mickey. Even if now he didn't want Ian in his fucked up life anymore. Even if fear was the true winner of it all.

Ian still had some of Mickey's clothes. The majority he had given to Mandy, but he had kept some, like the elephant tee. He hadn't had the heart to toss it out either. It was carefully folded in one of his drawers.

He needed to sleep. With the nightmare the night before he was now tired and he didn't want to fuck up his sleeping cycle. It was too important, all the more now that that he was feeling so shitty. Yet, he was in his bed, turning around too many times to find a position that was simply impossible to find without someone else sleeping next to him.

He had finally begun to doze off, when his phone buzzed. Ian didn't want to answer, but a call at this time of night worried him enough to accept it without even looking at the ID.

"Yes," Ian mumbled.

"Ian?" answered a too familiar voice. A voice he had been longing to hear for so long. "It's me."

 

***

 

Ian had probably waited too long to answer, because Mickey called for him again. "Ian? Please, answer me."

Ian recollected himself. He wanted Mickey to keep talking to him, he wanted to continue hearing his voice. He hadn’t even know how much he had been missing it until now. "Y-yeah."

He heard a curse on the other side of the phone. "I don't know what to do here. I mean I know, but... but. Ian..."

Mickey's words were slurred, as if he was drunk. He probably was. "You've been drinking, Mick?"

A sigh.

"So what? Who the fuck cares?" he spat. Before Ian could reply, Mickey whispered. "Just you, maybe..."

"You know I care about you."

Ian didn't hear a reply and he sat on the bed. "Mickey?"

"He's dead."

"Wha- Who's dead?". There was some noise on the other side and then the crash of something glassy, a glass. Another curse. "Mick are you okay?"

"My son's dead. Or maybe it was a girl. I don't know. You're supposed to know after a little over three months? I just thought it was a boy." Mickey chuckled. A humorless laugh. "And maybe baptize him with my father's name. That would've made him so fucking proud."

Svetlana had a miscarriage then. Or maybe she aborted in secret. Ian didn't care. He was only focused on Mickey. His voice sounded so desperate. Ian hadn't thought Mickey could have been so enamored with the child. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not." Did he hear a sob? "Or I am, because I'm not? I don't know, man. I just- This doesn't change anything, you know? Gonna marry her anyway. They tell me I got a son no more and then they bring me to the final fitting the next second. Like, no choice. Right?"

Ian didn't know what to say. Were there words for it? What he wanted was to embrace Mickey, hold him tightly and never letting him go. Whisper sweet words into his ears. Kissing him. Making him feel that everything was going to be alright.

"I don't-" Ian started.

"I miss you so much," Mickey muttered. Another sob. "So fucking much. I don't know what to do..."

That was it. Ian couldn't take it anymore. "I'm coming, Mick."

"What?" Mickey sounded surprised. And hopeful.

"Can't hear you like that. I'm coming to Chicago."

"No, man. It's better-"

"Mick you're not going to change my mind." The more Ian talked the more he felt sure about his decision. Even if Mickey was scared of seeing him, Ian had to insist. He had to try. He couldn't have Mickey sounding so miserable.

"And I don't plan to. But it's better if I come instead. Can't stay here right now. I'm... I'm taking the next flight to Boston."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!  
> If you wanna chat or you have any questions: my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	28. The ultimatum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I missed your lips," Ian said, a hand trailing down Mickey's body to his cock, his perineum, his ass.  
> "Missed you," Mickey replied in a groan, spreading his legs further for Ian. The redhead smiled and adjusted himself on top of him. "So much."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna publish anything during Christmas Eve and Christmas. Next chapter on the 26th :)

Ian sat on the bed for the eightieth time in half an hour and, just as the previous seven, he got up again five seconds later.

He was on edge. Now he was pacing in the room. Waiting. But not that good at waiting. He should have gone to the airport, he knew it. Hunting Mickey at the gate. But no. They had decided to meet at one hotel they both knew.

So now all Ian could do was staring at the door.

Was Mickey coming? He was. Wasn't he? Ian needed to see him so much, especially after his call last night, sounding so desperate. After their last encounter, Ian had decided to (or at least wanted to) let Mickey go, but now he couldn't even think about not letting Mickey in.

Ian still didn't know where he was standing with Mickey, all he knew was that Mickey needed to be comforted. Needed to feel safe for once. Secure. Ian wanted to give him that.

He was just sitting down when he heard a knock on the door. And another.

Ian dashed for the door, opening it wide.

Mickey was standing on the other side. His eyes were red rimmed, because he had cried, because he was tired. He was thinner. Ian had noticed his weight loss back in Chicago but now it was so evident.

As soon as he saw Mickey every feelings for him came rushing back to him. Ian was angry at him. He was worried about him. He was fucking mad. He loved him. He pitied him. He despised him. He wanted to touch him.

Needed to touch Mickey.

Mickey needed the same thing, because he only looked Ian in the eyes once, his blue eyes full of too much sadness for Ian to bear. Then Mickey moved to hug him. Or maybe it was Ian who moved first. He didn't know. It was possible they had moved in unison, driven by the same desire to feel their bodies in such a close contact.

They just stayed like that. No kissing or anything. Just holding the other so close it was difficult to breathe. Ian's thoughts were momentarily erased from his mind. Ian was feeling complete again ad he wasn't ready to disentangle himself from the embrace any time soon.

Mickey's hands were grabbing at the back of his shirt, his face hidden against his neck. Ian closed his eyes, focusing on the warm breath on his skin. Until he felt wetness. Tears. Ian tried to pull back, just to see Mickey's face, but the shorter guy tighten his grip and Ian let him cry. He caressed Mickey's hair, as gentle as he could, waiting for Mickey to get it off his chest. The only tears Ian ever wanted to see on Mickey were from laughing too much.

"I'm so- so sorry..."Mickey sobbed. His fingers gripping Ian's back so tight, enough to make him feel pain. "I didn't want to... for things... It's a mess."

Mickey's words were incoherent and yet Ian could understand what Mickey meant, as if he was communicating telepathically with him. Mickey was apologizing for how he had treated him."I know."

"In Chicago... I said those things to you, I..." Mickey didn't seem to be able to stop sobbing any time soon and Ian wanted to hug him through it. Mickey needed Ian to be strong for him too in that moment and Ian was determined to be that for him.

Ian kissed the top of his head. "It's okay. You're here."

"Yeah."

Ian didn't know for how long Mickey had cried or for how long they had held each other. But when the tears had ceased flowing and he felt a numb pain to his knuckles, he let go. Not much. Just enough to rest both of his hands on Mickey's cheeks. Ian gave him a tender smile, moving his thumbs to wipe off the tears.

Mickey looked up, meeting his eyes. Mickey's eyes were wet but clear, their blue so bright. Ian kissed him on his forehead.

"Are you tired?" Ian asked in a whisper. "Want to sleep a little?"

Mickey shook his head and looked at Ian again. Ian knew that look. He understood what Mickey needed, because it was the same thing Ian craved for too. Mickey's breath hitched when Ian kissed him on the temple. Then on the nose, the cheekbones, the lips. They both closed their eyes when the kiss became deeper, when their tongues met. Ian had never felt hungrier for that mouth.

From the simple need to be close they now had to feel each other up, naked body against naked body. It became messier, faster, tearing each other's clothes apart and touching the other's skin. With fingers. With lips. With teeth.

He grimaced when Mickey's fingertips touched his healed wound on the arm, the one caused by Terry's bullet scraping his skin. When he had to run for his life.

Mickey was looking at the scar with teary eyes, he couldn't look up at Ian. He leaned down to kiss the damaged skin. They were soft pecks but they managed to make Ian's knees buckle.

Fuck. Ian didn't want to think about anything else but the man in front of him.

"Fuck me," Mickey whispered between kisses. "Fuck me, Ian."

Ian didn't need to be asked again. He shoved Mickey on the bed, climbing on top of him to resume their make out session. But just kissing wasn't enough. It was so far from what they needed. Mickey's hands were on him, roaming on his body, touching everywhere they could reach. Ian was doing the same.

"Mickey..." he murmured, kissing his neck, sucking on it. He wanted to mark him. Feeling Mickey as his again. Mickey let him, actually pushing Ian's head against his neck, giving him more space on his own skin. Ian bit on it and Mickey let out a low groan that made the redhead harden even more. Mickey smiled a little at that, bucking up his hips to make their dicks rub against one another.

Ian moaned, his eyes settled on Mickey's, who was looking at him with the same intensity, the same heavy breathing coming from his mouth.

"Please..."

Did Ian say that word? Was it Mickey?

It wasn't important. They both reached for their backpacks simultaneously to find condoms and lube. Mickey grab his first and Ian pulled him back on the bed, retrieving the objects from him and resting them on the mattress. He made Mickey lay down.

Mickey stretched out his arms to caress Ian's hair with his hands. That was a tender gesture, different from the heated glare Mickey was sending him at the same time. It was good and Ian leaned down to kiss Mickey again.

"I missed your lips," Ian said, a hand trailing down Mickey's body to his cock, his perineum, his ass.

"Missed you," Mickey replied in a groan, spreading his legs further for Ian. The redhead smiled and adjusted himself on top of him. "So much."

They didn't stop moving their lips against one another, hands touching wherever they could reach. Hearing Mickey saying those words was getting Ian going, even more so when he started fingering Mickey and the shorter man eagerly met every thrusts.

"'m ready," Mickey assured, kissing Ian's chin the moment after. He grabbed Ian's ass to make the point even more obvious. "Need you."

Ian needed him too. Needed to be buried inside him. He rolled on the condom and pushed into Mickey.

"Fuck. Mick, God." There was nothing like that for Ian. Nothing was like Mickey, like being inside him, moving against his tight heat. And it wasn't just their body compatibility, it was fucking... everything. It was _it_.

Mickey locked his ankles behind Ian's lower back, spurring Ian to thrust deeper inside him. The sex wasn't fast like in Chicago. This was slow, made of tangled limbs. And kisses, sharing the same air. Mickey's eyes would close in ecstasy, but he'd always try to keep them open and meet Ian's. Mickey had never been able to blurt out his feelings. Yet his eyes were communicating them to Ian without any need of words.

"Mick... I got you," Ian murmured. He reached again for his lips and Mickey eagerly leaned in to crash their mouths together in a fiery kiss.

They came, stifling their moans against each other's skin. Mickey was trembling under him. Even after reaching the orgasm, he didn't seem to want to let Ian go any time soon. As if holding each other so tight was something vital. Ian couldn't agree more.

 

***

 

It was easier for Mickey to talk when it was dark. Maybe because Ian couldn't see his face, or maybe because the darkness in a room soothed him somehow.

They were laying on the bed, Ian on his back and Mickey with his head resting on Ian's chest. The weight on his pecs giving Ian some kind of steadiness. He liked it. He missed it. He could smell Mickey's scent again and he had Mickey's body to hold through the night. It was what he needed to sleep without nightmares.

"Ian?" Mickey called for him.

"Mh?" Ian's hand moved to caress Mickey's back.

"Do you..." Mickey paused for a moment. "Do you wanna play that game we did in San Antonio?"

Ian tried to think if they had played anything back in Texas, but came out empty "What game?"

"The -huh- the secrets game."

 _Oh_. Ian hadn't intended for that to become a game. Something. It had been really just an excuse to tell Mickey about his bipolar disorder. But in the end it had turned into something more. Especially for Mickey, who wasn't able to be straightforward with him, otherwise.

"Yeah, sure. You begin."

He felt Mickey nodding. "You..." Mickey sighed. "You asked me so many times about what happened after... uhm." He turned his head to kiss Ian's scar on his arm.

Ian bitterly chuckled. "You mean in my thousands texts and voicemails?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I-"

Ian interrupted him by resting a finger on Mickey's lips. "What happened."

"I don't know." Mickey whispered. "I lost consciousness and I woke up in a hotel room and..."

"And?" Ian spurred him to continue talking. What had possibly happened that Mickey couldn't say it?

Mickey shook his head, moving up to put some distance between Ian and him. "Nothing. It's nothing. Forget about it. Can we sleep? Please?"

Ian caught his arm, pulling Mickey closer to him once more. He didn't want to let Mickey go. "It's me, Mickey. Me," Ian told him as softly as he could, but inside he was a turmoil. He needed to know. "Please, tell me."

"I got the fag fucked out of me," Mickey scoffed. He tried to laugh but the sound became a sob and tears were now flowing on his face. Before Ian could ask him for an explanation, Mickey grabbed his hand in a tight hold, as if he could receive strength from it. He continued. "I woke up with a girl on my lap. The first thing I remember is her, crying so much. And then that she was fucking me. She was bouncing on me with a fucking tear stained face and I was ready to shove her away but then I heard the click of a gun and I finally saw my father. Seated a nearby armchair. He had a fucking gun pointed at me. Or her. Both, I guess. I went still, I was so fucking scared you know? But Pops he- 'don't you dare go limp, boy'. That's what he said. He paid the girl, after. For her silence and for fucking the fag out of me."

Mickey was silent now, but his hand was trembling in Ian's. The redhead had never interrupted him once, wanting for Mickey to get everything out. Now that he did, it was Ian's turn to be speechless.

What kind of monster was Terry? Ian had thought it was already enough that he had beaten his own son so heavily. But this? It was so twisted, so fucked up that Ian couldn't even wrap his mind around it. To think he was supposed to be the crazy one. Terry had such a dark soul.

"Are you disgusted?" He heard Mickey asking. His voice was feeble and insecure. He had never heard Mickey speaking like this. It was another one of the many reasons Ian hated Terry. Because he made Mickey feel worthless. To the point he had mistaken Ian's silence for disgusts at his tale.

"Disgusted? No, of course not," Ian recollected himself. He used his free hand to caress Mickey's cheek, as reassuring as he could. "I'm fucking mad. At him. What he did to you... Fuck. That's rape."

Mickey lowered his eyes. He tried to chuckle. "That's a big word, Ian. I was with a girl, it wasn't-"

"Did you wanted to? Would you have done it without your father pointing a gun at you?"

Ian didn't want to humiliate Mickey, he didn't want to make Mickey feel bad. But he needed him to see what his father had done to him. The other guy shook his head.

"No, of course not, but..." Mickey bit his lip so hard it became bloody in no time. The knowledge of what had truly happened to him was sinking in. "But Pops was finally alright and we didn't talk about it again."

Ian opened his mouth to say something, but Mickey continued.

"I wanted to call you. All your texts, I read them all. I listened to all your voicemails. I had to delete everything, but... I couldn't answer. " He looked up, meeting Ian's eyes for a moment. "It wasn't physically impossible to text you, to call you from some fucking public phone, but what then? I was in Washington, I had to meet Svetlana. I was forced to. I couldn't talk to you. I couldn't trust myself to keep my distance from you otherwise. Not even to tell you I was alive. I thought it was better a clean slate, you know? For you, better off without me."

Ian raised Mickey's chin with his fingers. His look was stern and determined. "I'm not better off without you." He couldn't have Mickey thinking that way. "I've been fucking miserable these past months. What I feel for you... Clean slate? Impossible."

Mickey remained silent. He licked his gnawed bottom lip. Ian hated it was too dark to see his face when he asked

"And... What do you feel for me?"

Mickey's voice was so thin. So insecure yet full of hope. Ian smiled. "Don't you know already?"

"Just tell me," he whispered.

Ian leaned down. He licked Mickey's lip, tasting the blood on his tongue. "I love you."

Mickey emitted a choked sound in his throat. Ian couldn't see his expression, but he felt a shadow of a smile against his lips. Then a kiss. Mickey closed the distance and crashed their mouths together. Ian was ready for him. He got him. Ian brought his hands to Mickey's cheeks, deepening the kiss. Mickey gained steadiness by grabbing onto Ian's shoulders. His arms.

"I love you, Mickey," Ian repeated and the kiss became more heated, needier if possible. "You're everything I want."

Mickey moaned and straddled Ian. He pulled back from his lips for just about a second before resuming the kissing. Ian's hands trailed down, resting on his hips, moving against them. It didn't take much for the simple touches to transform into something more sensual, for the skin-to-skin contact to not being enough. It wasn't long before they became one again. Moans, sweet words and the sound of their bodies merging together as the only noises in the room.

"I love you," gasped Ian during his climax.

"Love you too," whispered Mickey once they were both spent and cuddling on the bed.

Ian had just closed his eyes but he opened them right away, brushing his eyelashes against Mickey's nape. He had been about to drift to sleep, but now his heart was beating fast inside his chest. He was sure Mickey could feel it against his back.

"I really do." Mickey caressed Ian's arm, kissing the back of his hand. Ian replied by putting his lips on Mickey's shoulder.

This time, when Ian closed his eyes, Mickey did too. It was the first time in a long time that Ian was able to sleep without feeling cold.

 

***

 

Ian woke up with Mickey in his arms. Three days had passed since they had met in the hotel room and Ian's heart would still ache and feel warm every time Ian opened his eyes to Mickey's neck, inhaled his personal scent. As a reflex, Ian hugged Mickey a bit tighter, basking in that simple contact of skin. He had missed it so much and now he found himself surprised and giddy that he could do that once again. Kissing Mickey's shoulders because _his lover_ was there.

Mickey was still deeply asleep and Ian decided to not wake him up. He had kind of worn him out last night. The redhead climbed out of bed and put some clothes on. He pocketed his pill box in his jeans and looked around for a fucking piece of paper and a pen. Ian found them inside one of the nightstands and wrote a simple message.

'Out getting coffee'

Ian left it on his own pillow and moved for the door. Before opening it he let his eyes wander on the sill asleep figure on the bed, partially tangled in rumpled sheets. Mickey was so fucking beautiful in the morning, so peaceful. He was sprawled on his stomach and all Ian wanted was to lick his way from his neck to his ass. But before, they needed coffee. And something to eat with it.

The could just get it at the hotel, but Ian knew which coffee Mickey really craved for.

_Mickey grimaced and placed the cup on the nightstand._

_"The hotel is nice, but their coffee is shit," he commented. With a sigh he leaned back against Ian's chest, who was sitting right behind him on the bed. Ian had one arm around Mickey's waist, managing with some difficulties to eat using only one hand._

_"You know what I really miss? The coffee they make at that place on campus, what's-its-name._

_Ian snorted. "Seriously? That's what you miss? And here I thought it was a six foot tall redhead with a big dick."_

_Mickey chuckled and turned his body a bit to see Ian's face."Nah. My Carrot top is already here." He smiled softly at Ian and kissed his chin. "Now what I miss is that coffee."_

_Ian wanted to laugh, enjoying that carefree moment but all he could think was how right Mickey was in his arms, how wonderful it was too see his smile again. Just for him. Ian rested a hand on Mickey's cheek, keeping him in place and engaging him in a long kiss._

That was the reason why Ian was now walking around campus. To get Mickey's damn coffee. He wanted to see his smile once Ian had come back with it. And then let the coffee go cold because Ian had every intention of jumping on Mickey before he could actually taste it.

Fuck, Ian felt good. He didn't know where they were standing, what it was going to happen to them. Yet Mickey was again in his arms. And not just that. They were both completely into it. Mickey hadn't said "I love you" after the first time. It was always Ian who couldn't get enough of repeating those three words, but every time he did, Mickey would do something sweet, like smiling or kissing him. Or simply blushing. Because yes, Mickey was a tough guy but damn if he blushed.

With a dumb smile on his face, Ian ordered two coffees and something to eat to go. For himself he also got a small sandwich to take with his pills right away.

Coming back to the hotel room, the coffee was cold. They would have had to warm it up. Or maybe Mickey would have just appreciated the gesture and they could skip right to the sex.

When Ian entered the room, he didn't bother knocking before using the key. He was expecting to find Mickey still on the bed, but the guy was standing by the window, a cigarette in one hand and the phone in the other.

"Yeah I know- I fucking know, Tony!" he shouted. Mickey took a drag of his cigarette, breathing the smoke out as if to take his time. "Just... Just tell him I needed to take a little time, okay? To think. No. Everything's fine. Yeah... Yeah. She did, huh? Send her flowers or something. No, the fuck should I know? Okay. Sure. Tell him-" It was in that moment that Mickey realized that Ian was in the room. He looked at the redhead with guilt and went back looking out of the window. "Gotta go now. Yeah. See ya."

Mickey ended the phone call, still giving Ian his back.

They remained silent, neither of them starting the conversation Ian feared.

Mickey finished his cigarette, stubbing it on the nearby ashtray. He turned around, leaning his back against the wall. He looked at Ian with so much resignation in his eyes that he knew what was happening before Mickey could even say it.

"You're going," Ian whispered. "You're going back."

Mickey sighed. He nodded. He looked away.

The realization of it all hit hard on Ian. He wasn't that naive, he had expected for Mickey's family to reach out to him. What made his heart painfully clench in his chest was that Mickey had already taken a decision. Without him.

"You can't do that," Ian said. His voice sounded weak to his own ears.

"My dad, he... He's fucking angry. He wants me back. I have to go back home."

"No you don't!" This time Ian felt angry and his words came across steadier, yet not less sad.

"I do." Mickey moved from the wall, stepping closer to Ian. "We're in danger if I don't marry her. If I don't live how he fucking wants me to live. You think that my dad is only a horrible man, but he's so much more than that. We are not rich thanks to a lottery ticket. We got money cause we do pretty bad shit. We transport drugs, man. For the Russians, the Mexicans... and not just that. We transport all kind of illegal shit and that's not even the tip of the fucking iceberg. You think you can really protect us from someone who can make people disappear? You and I, Ian. Can't happen. Not how you want it. Not how _I_ want it. You really think I'd marry her if the only downside would be to be disowned? Fuck, Ian. Is that what you think?"

Mickey's words were bitter and desperate. And true.

Ian was aware that it was dangerous. He fucking knew it. But that didn't mean he wanted to give up.

"No, of course not. But you can't just give up on us."

Mickey closed the distance between them. He took his hand.

"I'm not. I want to be with you. I thought I could let you go, but... here I am, right?" He hinted a smile that Ian couldn't mirror. "But I also have to do as my father wants. I'll marry her, we'll have another kid. I'll run for some campaigns. Maybe when he'll see how much I suck at doing speeches he'll leave me alone on that."

Ian cringed at that. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

Mickey shook his head. "No. But that's how it's gonna be. I'll play the straight family man part and maybe if... If I play it well, Pops will eventually close an eye on us."

"Unless some paparazzi gets to us first," Ian spat. "You know, if you actually get to win some campaign."

"Ian-"

"No, let me finish. I love you. So much. And I know you do too. And that's why I can't have you like this. I need all of you." Was it egoistic? Maybe. But Ian couldn't deal with any more compromises. "You want me to be Governor Milkovich's dirty secret? I can't. I've been a mistress before but I didn't care about them as I do about you. I can't have you one night in some motel room and then letting you go to your beloved fake family."

It was selfish, so selfish. But Mickey's wish was selfish too. He was asking Ian to sacrifice his personal life, his love, for some brief encounters through the year. In his case Ian had also to think about his mental state. He needed someone to come home to, not an empty house for one person.

"So, what are you saying?" Mickey asked. He had dropped Ian's hand.

"I'm saying that you can't make me and your father happy at the same time."

Mickey looked at him in disbelief. "You're asking me to choose between you two?

Ian paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. But all he came with was "Yes."

Mickey shook his head. "You can't be serious. I- You need to think about it. Sleep on it. I'll find a solution, but I can't do what you're asking me."

Ian sighed. He brought his hands on the sides of Mickey's face. He leaned down to kiss him. A soft, tender kiss that he kept feeling on his lips even when he pulled back. Mickey was looking at him with such bright, pleading eyes.

"Mick. If you marry her, if you go through with your father's plans... you'll lose me. Us."

Mickey distanced himself from Ian. He chuckled, or at least he tried to.

"I can't deal with you now. I just can't. You cannot ask me something like this." He grabbed his coat. "Gotta deal with Pops now, it's more than enough on my plate."

"Mick, wait-"

Mickey didn't wait for Ian to call him back. He stepped into the corridor and slammed the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!  
> If you wanna chat or you have any questions: my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	29. The best time of his life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, looking at Mickey passed out drunk, Mandy wasn't sure anymore if monitoring Mickey was enough. She needed to do something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, a late Merry Christmas to y'all! I think I gained some weight after having eaten like a pig for three days straight.  
> This chapter is really, so short. It's just to let you see how Mickey's doing (from Mandy's perspective). Next chapter tomorrow (I hope!)

Mandy's shoulders stiffened as she crossed the main gate of the Milkovich's propriety. It was simply impossible to remain relaxed once the air was buzzing with unsettling electricity. It was like in those horror movies set in gray, foggy places, where the audience always fucking knew something bad is going to happen. And yet, just as every dumb heroine would do, Mandy entered the house.

As soon as she stepped the threshold she was assaulted by two monsters. AKA her brothers Iggy and Colin.

"Damn you guys!" she shouted. In their powerful hug, her suitcase had fallen down. She heard a crash. "You better be praying it's not my new perfume. Or I'm gonna kill both of you, you useless fuckheads!"

Her brothers laughed, but really. They were going to pay. Just because she was skinny it didn't mean she couldn't throw a fight.

"Why are you already here anyway?" she asked. She had thought they were coming only on time for the wedding.

"And missing the bachelor party? C'mon, Mands."

Mandy chuckled. Of fucking course they had come back for the Bachelor Party. "Should have known. And here I thought you had both found someone already..."

"Hey, you know I'm faithful to my girl," said Colin. "Doesn't mean I'm not gonna watch some ass covered by a G-string."

Iggy laughed and Mandy smiled at them. She actually loved that her brothers were able to laugh even in the Milkovich House of horrors.

"Where's the guest of honor, anyway?" Mandy asked. Her two brothers lost their cheerfulness.

"Drunk somewhere, I guess," Iggy answered. He shrugged. "Must be nervous for the big day."

"Must be," Mandy replied. But she knew better than that.

 

**[7:09 PM]: Why can't I have both?**

**[10:54 PM]: I need you**

**[2:33 AM]: Youre a fucking selfish shit**

**[6:01 PM]: Fuck u Ian**

**[11:27 AM]: Miss u**

**[11:27 PM]: Who cares bout happiness?**

**[4:49 AM]: U told me u love me**

**[1:56 PM]: U can't shut me off completely.**

 

These were just a small part of the texts Mickey had sent Ian. Her best friend had only let her read an even smaller part of them, but Mandy had read them anyway one time whilst Ian had been in the shower. Not her proudest moment, but she had needed to know.  The majority of the texts had received a reply from Ian, but Mickey wasn't happy with them. Some of his texts were of him begging Ian to reconsider, other were to curse at Ian, a big chunk were texts sent from a drunk, horny Mickey, full of misspelling and more pitiful than sensual.

Mandy loved her brother and she was still some reservations about Ian's decision. Not when it made Mickey so fucking miserable. Yet she could also understand Ian's reasoning and she was worried about Mickey too. She couldn't have Mickey being so close to their father.

It was Ian who had actually asked her to go back home sooner than the established wedding date. Mickey needed someone to rely on while he was staying under their father's roof. Mandy hadn't thought twice about it and had booked the flight.

That was why Mandy was now snooping around the house searching for Mickey.

When she found him, he was asleep on one of the couches. An empty bottle of vodka was on the ground and Mickey reeked of alcohol and vomit.

She bit her lips, stretching her arm to touch Mickey's hair in a gentle movement.

"Ian..." murmured Mickey at the caress and Mandy felt so sad for him she just wanted to drag Mickey out of the house and send him to Boston.

Instead she sat on the other side of the couch, sighing.

Mickey still didn't know that Mandy was aware of his secret, that Ian had told her everything. Ian and she had discussed about it and since they weren't sure how Mickey would react to his sister knowing, Mandy had resorted to keep her mouth shut. At least about his relationship with Ian. She needed to be there to support Mickey, she couldn't have him keeping his distance from her because he was ashamed of being gay.

Now, looking at Mickey passed out drunk, Mandy wasn't sure anymore if monitoring Mickey was enough. She needed to do something.

 

***

 

The happy family dined together. Even Terry was participating, seated at the head of the table. Mickey was on his left side and wasn't looking at anything but his beer. Her brother was pale, maybe even a little greenish and was neglecting eating in order to keep drinking. Yet their father seemed overall pleased and was enjoying the dinner as if Mickey was behaving in a normal manner.

Mandy grimaced at his satisfied expression. Terry couldn't care less about his son's happiness. Everything was good as long as Mickey was following his directives.

Mandy was fucking furious and she didn't even know who wanted to punch more. Her father, her brother. Even Ian.

After dinner she spent some time with Colin and Iggy, playing some videogame. It was nice talking to her older brothers but she was still worried about Mickey who had declined their invitation earlier. Mandy waved goodnight to them and went again on a search for her missing brother.

She found him in their father's office. Terry had never let his children in it without him being present. Maybe now he was making an exception for his favorite son. In the room there was a pretty good collection of liquors and Mickey was taking advantage of it.

He sat at the desk and had a glass of whiskey in his hand. He was staring at it, as if it could contain the answers to all his questions. Mandy bit her lips to prevent her mouth from running.

"Think you drank too much already," she said. _ Goddamn stupid mouth. _

Mickey looked up focusing on her. He shrugged. "Nah. I'm developing a new level of tolerance."

She came closer, lifting herself on the desk. Mickey poured a glass for her too. She picked it up.

"This is good shit," Mandy commented, feeling her throat burning.

"Ain't it?" Mickey took another gulp. "Some on the top shelf are old as fuck."

Mandy nodded. She decided to pick on him a bit. "Excited for your bachelor party tomorrow? I'm sure our brothers are planning to take you to every strip club of Chicago."

He grimaced. "Yay. Lucky me."

"Why the long face? Thought you would be on cloud nine. Or you're already totally faithful to Lana?" It was fucking difficult not to just reveal that she knew he was gay. She was so tempted. But what if Mickey started to keep his distance from her? She wanted Mickey to tell her himself.

"Sure. Totally faithful to her," he muttered. He refilled his glass.

_ Or to Ian _ , Mandy thought. Her face softened and she smiled at him. "Well. Try to go to sleep." She climbed down the desk. "Good night, assface."

"'Night, skank," Mickey greeted.

The last thing she saw before leaving the office was Mickey sighing and taking out his phone. He was texting.

Mandy wondered what new message Ian would receive in a minute.

 

***

 

The private room was poorly illuminated with only red and pink lights, electronic music as a background to create a sexy environment.

Or something like that.

Mandy had decided to join her brothers for Mickey's bachelor party and she was the only female in the room. Well, except for the strippers.

The only clothed female in the room, that is.

She had come to the strip club mostly to keep an eye on Mickey. Her brother had woken up after 1 pm and he was already drunk by the time they had hit the road.

In the room there were two strippers dancing on the platform. One of them really rocking her pole. Even Mandy was impressed on how good she was. She was kind of envying her ass.

Who wasn't even remotely interested in the titties show was the guest of honor himself. Mickey was looking at the girls but through the fog of the alcohol he was continuing on chugging it down. Her brothers didn't seem to notice, they were too much taken by the difficult task of sticking fresh bills in the girls' G-string.

"Having fun?" Mandy asked once she got closer to Mickey.

Mickey chuckled. "Best time of my life. No, wait. The wedding has to be the best time of my fucking existence, Right?"

Mickey was so bitter while talking. Yet Mandy's fist hitched for punching him in his sad face.

"Why so sarcastic? Don't you love your girl?" she had to ask. Because yes, she couldn’t stand Mickey being so miserable. Watching him sinking in into this passive-aggressive behavior was the worst.

"My girl? Yeah. Love her so much," her brother replied.

Mandy fucking hated this fucked up situation. She knew everything. She fucking knew! Why did she have to shut up? True, she didn't know how Mickey could react, but Mickey had already reached the bottom. She couldn't help him like this. Fuck, if Mickey wasn't going to tell her himself, there was only one thing she could do. Consequences be damned.

"Pity that she's not a redhead," Mandy said. Mickey frowned but he was still not looking at her. "Well, she's taller than you, but no freckles. Oh, and no dick either. Thought that would be a huge obstacle in your sex life."

Mickey immediately twisted his head in her direction. Okay, now it was too late to back off. The cards were on the table. As well as the G-string one of the strippers had thrown on it.

"What the fuck are you-"

"I know, Mick," Mandy interrupted. "I know about you, about Ian."

Mickey looked back to Iggy and Colin, who were blissfully ignorant of Mickey's distress.

"How do you know?" Mickey asked, eyes supposed to be menacing. But Mandy knew her brother. He was just on the defensive.

"What you think? Ian. When he came to see you for Pops' birthday."

"So you've known for months." Mickey scoffed. "And for all this time, what? Did you have a good laugh? Asking me about Lana, about the fucking wedding? Fuck, your fucking faggot of a brother marrying a girl, what a blast."

Mickey was whispering, but he was so close to Mandy he might as well scream. His sister shook her head. Mickey was panicking, she could see it in his face, in his wide eyes.

"No, no! I wanted you to tell me, Mick. I- with Ian. We didn't know how you'd react so I kept my mouth shut." She placed her hand on top of Mickey's arm, but he swatted her away. "I should have told you. You, should have told me. What the fuck, Mick. You can't marry her."

"A little late, don't you think? The wedding is this weekend." Mickey's tone was resigned, and yet Mandy could have sworn there was a small, dim light of hope in its darkness.

"It's okay, you're still in time-"

"Yeah, and then what? Me and Ian are gonna elope? Got a plan, huh?"

Mandy remained silent. No, of course she didn't have a plan. It wasn't just Mickey disappointing his father, it was about Mickey and Ian being in danger for their lives.

Mickey shook his head. He took another gulp from his glass and sighed. "You don't. Do you?"

"Mick... We have to try something. You can't let him destroy your life like this."

Her brother stood up. "You and Ian. Both fucking dreamers. Wake up, reality is not a sappy novel. This is it." Mickey let out a choked sound. He was in pain and Mandy only wished she could stop it. "This is fucking it."

Mickey finished the contents of the glass and smashed it on the floor with force. This time he captured their brothers' attention, who asked if he were okay.

He told them to fuck off.

Mickey got out of the room in a rage.

Mandy gave some half-assed explanations to Iggy and Colin, who were now too worried to enjoy the show. They got up and went looking for their brother in the club.

It was no surprise for Mandy and her brothers when they saw Mickey passed out at the bar counter, hugging a bottle. What only Mandy noticed, were the tears staining his cheeks.

 

***

 

"Ian? Yeah, I was with him. I told Mickey, that I know. What? No, Ian. He's... It's bad. So bad. He's always drunk and now he doesn't even wanna talk to me anymore. We gotta do something, Ian. I can't see him like this. No, I don't know how. You think you're the only one who suffers? He was fucking crying! ... Oh, okay. Yeah, let's talk later. But really, Ian. We can't let that bastard win. Don't give up."

 

***

 

On the other end of the line, Ian hung up the phone. He threw it somewhere on the bed.

"Fuck," he sighed, bringing his head in his hands.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!  
> If you wanna chat or you have any questions: my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	30. Don't do this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was nervous. He was scared, yet excited. He looked as if he was about to jump from a high cliff. The adrenaline that only doing scary and dangerous but amazing things can send, running through his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I loved writing this chapter

Mandy was in the bathroom of the restaurant, trying to adjust the neckline of her dress. She sighed. It seemed a rather impossible task, the neckline just wanted to fall down. All because her tits weren't big enough to fill the front.

She looked at herself in the mirror. The make up was light and perfect and her hair was gathered up in a side braid. It was simple, yet elegant. The only thing missing was a natural smile on her face. She guessed a fake one would do as well.

Mickey's family as well as the bride's were meeting for the rehearsal dinner in the big hall of the restaurant, but Mandy needed time to collect herself. It was useless, there was not enough time in the world to be prepared before entering the lions' den. She took a deep breath and got out of the toilet.

She was walking towards the big hall, when she noticed Mickey, still outside the restaurant. From the large windows Mandy saw her brother gesticulating. He had his phone glued to his ear with one hand, while the other was waving in the air in angry movements. He looked desperate and annoyed at the same time.

Mandy bit her lips. She didn't like eavesdropping but Mickey was so upset and she had her suspects about who was on the other line of the call. She opened the main door, trying to make as little noise as possible. Mickey was giving her his back and now she was able to listen.

"So what do you expect me to do here, huh?" Mickey snarled. "The wedding is fucking tomorrow. Think my dad is gonna have a change of heart over night?"

Mickey tipped his head back in exasperation. "You fucking know I love you, but you can't expect- Fuck you!" His voice calmed down a bit. He sighed. "Listen, I told you how things are, I don't wanna lose you... Ian, please."

Now Mickey was shaking his head. "Yeah, well. See if I care, bitch!"

Her brother ended the call and lit up a cigarette. When he turned back he saw Mandy and stopped right in his tracks. Fuck.

"Were you fucking listening?!" Mickey shouted.

"N-no. I just came to get you back to the hall. You know. For _your_ rehearsal dinner?"

Mickey scoffed. He took a drag out of his cigarette. "Yeah, the dinner before the big day."

"It was Ian, wasn't it?" Mandy asked successfully changing the topic. She knew but she wanted to see her brother's expression.

"Mind your own fucking business," Mickey said, but now that he was closer to her, she saw something she hadn't noticed before. Mickey's eyes were wet. Maybe he hadn't been crying but he had been definitely on the way to. Mandy's face softened.

"I'm so sorry, Mick," she said. Mickey sighed.

"Well, don't know what to do with it." He moved for the door, but Mandy grabbed his hand. "What," he spat.

Mandy gritted her teeth. Mickey was angry, but she was too. She hated to see that their father was winning once again. And that Mickey was rolling with it, leaving behind the one thing that made him so fucking happy.

"You know what? Fine." Mandy raised her hands up in surrender. "Want to ruin your life just to please our fucking dad? Please, do that. Be as miserable as you want. I won't stop you!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Mickey yelled back. He had raised up his fist, almost ready to punch her. Her eyes widened and Mickey immediately recollected himself. He huffed a breath and unclenched his hand. "Sorry..."

"It's okay," Mandy muttered. It was a family thing, resorting to deal with arguments with violence. Terry had destroyed his children in so many fucked up ways. She took in Mickey's disheveled appearance. He was a mess. "Come here," she muttered softly.

Mickey came closer, letting Mandy adjust him to make him look presentable. Finally, she brought her hands on his cheeks, caressing his face with her thumbs. At first surprised, Mickey leaned in on the kind gesture and closed his eyes for a second.

"Ready to go back inside?" Mandy asked. She tried to humor him a bit."It's a warm October, but I'm still dressed kinda light, you know."

Mickey nodded. They made it to the door when he took out his phone and gave it to Mandy. "I can't have it with me," he said.

She took it, looking at him with understanding. "I'll keep it for you."

Mickey bit his bottom lip and smoked one last time. He flicked the butt of the cigarette onto the ground and looked at the phone one more time, before entering the restaurant.

 

***

 

The future governor of fucking Illinois couldn't smile for the life of him. He had drunk but a glass of wine but his mood was low and he wasn't speaking. Mandy sat at his right, while his soon to be wife was at his left. She didn't look much happier either. Mandy had exchanged a few words with her after the miscarriage and she had gotten the distinctive impression that Svetlana wasn't into this marriage anymore. Or maybe she had never been.

Their fathers, on the other hand, looked happy and satisfied. Terry was pouring Gene more wine. They were gesticulating and loudly talking about big, amazing things for the future. The future of their kids, of course. Not about how profitable the marriage was for them, making them effectively  'business' partners. Mr Kudrin would now give Mr Milkovich's goods the authorization to be imported and exported without import tax as well as an 'overlook' on their nature at customs.

That was what Mickey had whispered in ear ears, during dinner. When he sometimes bothered to talk.

This was all making Mandy sick. She felt as if they were in the fucking Middle Age, forcing princes and princesses into loveless marriages for the gain of kings and queens. Well, Terry had always had a soft spot for that age, especially old good tortures and burning witches at the stake.

Mickey was now trying to maintain a polite conversation with one of the guest, AKA a shady associate of their father, because the man didn't seem able to shut the fuck up. Mandy was faking to appear interested in the conversation, when her phone buzzed.

No, wait. _His_ phone buzzed.

Mandy had almost forgotten that she was keeping Mickey's phone in her purse too. Her brother was distracted by the guest and Mandy took it out to see how it was.

**IAN**

She looked around, but nobody was paying any attention to her. Biting her lips she unlocked the screen with the password Mickey had always been too lazy to change and she read the text.

 

**[7:45 PM] Ian: Don't do this**

 

Mandy figured it was a repetition from their earlier conversation. Now Ian was begging another time. Would that make any difference for Mickey? Should she let him read it? It was just another text in the billions they had exchanged.

Still, it wasn't fair for Mickey not to read it.

"Mick?" she called him, tapping on his shoulder.

Mickey turned around to see her. The pleasant expression on his face dropped immediately as he didn't have to fake enjoyment with his own sister.

"What."

Mandy fumbled with the phone under the table before showing the text to Mickey.

_Don't do this._

"Christ." Mickey's breath was shakier. He shook his head. "I fucking told you to keep the damn phone for a reason, why the fuck are you showing this to me," he whispered, his eyes looking sadder by the second.

Before Mandy could speak, he turned his back to her again. She decided to let him do whatever he wanted. Yet Mickey's demeanor began to change. It was small things, really. Mickey kept stealing glances at his father, at his brothers. At Mandy.  At her purse containing his cellphone. He looked at Svetlana, who seemed pretty absorbed in using her own phone. Mickey looked at all the people invited tonight at the rehearsal dinner and tomorrow at the wedding. They were having fun and eating and Mandy didn't know the majority of them. These people knew their father, not Mickey. They couldn't see what was happening inside Mickey, couldn't even guess. It was only a party to them and not the start of Mickey's downfall.

This was what Mickey would have to face in the future. Keep an appearance, be polite, be corrupt, be funny when needed, be straight, be married, be a talker, be his father's puppet. Let Terry take the reins over his own self. Not be himself. Because what he was, it wasn't acceptable. It wasn't good. It was faulty. At least for these people. Surely for their father.

Mandy took Mickey's phone from her purse, to see if there were any new messages from Ian. Before she could check, Mickey snatched it from her hand and unlocked it. Mandy knew what he was doing. Rereading the message one more time.

Mickey sighed and placed the phone on the table and his sister noticed how his hand was unstable. Mickey was shivering. He was nervous. He was scared, yet excited. He looked as if he was about to jump from a high cliff. The adrenaline that can be transmitted only doing scary and dangerous but amazing things, running through his body. She placed her own hand on his, giving it a little squeeze. She hoped she had managed to convey her message to him

_I'm with you, no matter what ._

He looked at Mandy. His eyes were blown wide with anxiety but there was also a flicker of light in them. Mandy smiled at him. He emptied his glass of wine and refilled it again.

Then Mickey stood up.

Only a few guests took notice of him and his father wasn't among them. He had to tap on the glass twice before he got everybody attention. Terry looked at him and his glare was menacing. It was a silent warning about pondering about what he was going to say.

Mickey opened his mouth to talk, but no words came out from his mouth. Mandy placed a hand on the small of his back, trying to give him some of her courage.

"I- I wanted to thank you all for coming and... but." He cleared his throat. Mandy could feel from her hand that Mickey stopped shaking. He was determined now."I just want everybody to know that I’m fucking gay. Can’t marry you Lana, sorry. So… yeah. No wedding tomorrow."

Mickey blurted out the last words without stopping and when he did, everybody in the room fell silent. No one was moving. It was as if Mickey had pushed the stop button with his declaration. Then the waiters and waitresses started moving around again, to bring in the seconds.

Mickey looked down at his sister, frowning. Mandy shrugged.

And that was when their father stood up, flipping the table and letting everything on it crash down on the floor. Wine, meat, sauce, candles. Everything spilled and the nearby guests screamed for the shock. But no scream was as loud as Terry's when he moved to attack Mickey. Their dad fucking growled.

Mickey took a defensive position, but Terry's fist connected with his face anyway. Their dad could only be described as a mad man. Mickey reacted by crashing a bottle of wine against his head, but it wasn't enough to stop such a fury. Terry pushed Mickey against a wall, but this time Mickey ducked enough to jab him in the stomach. Terry crouched but he replied with a hook to Mickey's chin.

"I'll fucking kill you!" Terry shouted before headbutting his son.

Mickey fell down and Terry went to straddle him and resume with his fists. He was completely unaware of the guests' stares. Of their open mouths.

And that was why his guard was down when a chair collided against his back. Mandy put as much strength as she could in it. She wasn't' going to watch that bastard beat the crap out of Mickey. She couldn't stand him doing as he pleased with his children. No more.

Terry screamed in pain and looked behind and his face was so surprised when he saw that his own daughter had had the gut to harm him.

"Fuck you!" Mandy yelled at him and she spat at his face. Terry was almost getting up to deal with her, when Mickey hit his dad's leg with his own, making him tumble down. Mickey was on him the next second and this time it was the son who headbutted the father.

Mickey was pummeling his face when he was stopped by a hand on his forearm. Colin's.

"Fuck off!" Mickey shouted and tried to wiggle out of his brother's grip. Seizing the moment, Terry was ready to take advantage and be the one to hit Mickey. Iggy intervened to halt his movement by pushing the sole of his shoe against Terry's wrist.

The two older brothers separated Mickey and Terry, who were still struggling from their grip to go at each other's throat again.

Iggy was not as strong as their father and Terry was almost free from his arms.

"Tony, help me!" Iggy called for his oldest brother. Tony had looked at the whole scene as if he was a statue, still and not really part of it. But Iggy's voice woke him up and moved to aid his younger brother to keep their father in place.

"Please, Pops..." he muttered. All he received was an elbow against the chest.

Before anybody could decide how to proceed, they were interrupted by a single, strong word.

"Police!"

 

***

 

The policemen hauled Mickey and Terry out of the restaurant and they handcuffed both of them. The police was trying not to make a racket out of the situation, but the two Milkoviches were not helping with it with their yelling and cursing.

They had attracted the attention of the whole street, plus all the people inside the restaurant.

"You're fucking dead, you hear me boy?!" Terry screamed at Mickey. "You're not my son anymore!"

"I don't fucking care! Fuck you!" Mickey was ready to go against Terry again, but the tall policeman behind him was blocking him.

"Get out of my house, you cock sucker!"

"Oh yeah! I so am! I suck big, fat cocks! Especially my guy's, you remember him, right? He was making me moan so much. I suck his dick and I fucking love it!" Mickey's face was wet with blood and his nose had good chances of being broken, yet he didn't seem to care. He was fucking smiling and spitting red saliva. Mandy had never seen him this fucking excited in his entire life.

Their dad was completely purple. He was a fucking bull and two policemen had to restrain him to prevent Terry for launching himself at his son. "I'll fucking destroy you!"

Mickey was almost laughing. "Oh yeah? Shove my political career up your ass! Just like I do with his cock. He gives it to me good and hard and I take it all!"

Mickey was fucking dry humping the police car. His whole life he had been the filial son, meek and scared of his dad. But now it seemed he wanted to pour out all his twenty two years of frustration on the very own source of his unhappiness. Before Terry could go completely berserk, they pushed him inside a police car and locked it.

Since they had to get the facts straight, they hauled Mickey inside another car. Both the men looked like wild animals in cages.

"Hey, wait a fucking second, I need to come too!" Mandy called for an officer. She wasn't letting Mickey to meet again with Terry at the police station. She wanted to be there for him. It was unthinkable to leave Mickey alone after what had occurred in the restaurant.

The officer frowned at her. "Sorry, miss."

He moved for the car door when Mandy grabbed him by the arm. "Sorry my ass. I have to go with my brother. He needs me."

The other wasn't pleased that she had grabbed his arm and waved her off. "Think he needs more someone to fix his nose. You can come later at the police station. Now, if you excuse me..."

"No. I don't fucking excuse you." Mandy was feeling charged up. Electricity flowing through her veins She had stood up to her father. It wasn't just Mickey. It was her too. "I crashed a chair against that bastard," she said, indicating Terry's car. "And if you don't bring me with Mickey, I'll punch you in the face."

The policeman scoffed, as if the thought of such a pretty, skinny girl using her small fists to hit someone was so fucking funny.

"Miss, as I already told y-"

Mandy punched him in the face. A perfect jab her brothers would be so proud of. No, actually they were proud right now. She heard Colin and Iggy whistling for her. The officer didn't look as enthusiast, though. He grabbed her and pushed Mandy inside the car.

Mickey was sitting on the other side of the backseats with the handcuffs on. He was looking at her amused. "Well, good job, sis."

She waved her hand in a dismissal gesture, but she winced the next moment.  "Ugh.Think I broke something."

"Told ya to keep the thumb out of the fucking fist."

Mickey relaxed on the backseat when the car started its engine.

Mandy faked to be offended by his reproach, but she smiled too soon. "I'm proud of you, Mick."

Her brother sighed, then he chuckled a bit. "Fucking proud of myself too," he answered.

Mandy nodded and rested her head against his shoulder.

 

***

 

At the police station, Mickey and Mandy were released. Mickey didn't get arrested because the witnesses had stated that he was the victim and he was trying to defend himself from the aggressor. Mandy instead had to beg the arresting officer to release her as well, because she had not been herself in that moment. The policeman took pity on her after a lot of pleading and groveling and he let her go.

She sat close to Mickey on one of the benches at the station. They were waiting for their brothers to come getting them. He seemed lost in his thoughts, a blood-stained handkerchief pressed against his nose. Mandy decided to remain silent and let him be for the moment.

"You know he's getting out. He probably won't even spend the whole night in the holding cell." Mickey broke the silence a few minutes later. Mandy nodded.

"Yeah. He has greased the hands of half the precinct. If not all of them," she said. Mandy, as well as her brothers, had never had a single problem from the police. Even during the time when she had done crazy, illegal things with her junkie friends. What had saved her before, now seemed to work against her and her siblings. Terry was getting out of prison, and he wouldn't waste any time to punish them. The reality of the situation was finally dawning on her. "Fuck."

This was Mickey's turn to squeeze her hand. He kept his hand over hers. "I have an idea. A plan, actually. But it's fucking risky and we need to be smart about it. And I need you. And our brothers." Mickey was worrying his bottom lip. "It's dangerous cause there could be repercussions and we could lose all our money. We gotta be extra careful and I swear. If you and the others are not okay with it I'll understand and won't do any-"

"I'm in." Mandy interrupted him.

"You sure? You don't even know what the plan is."

Mandy bit her lips. She wanted her brother to understand how much she was in. How much she wanted to see their father dead or locked up for good. And there was only one way. One secret that she had kept for years. So disgusting, so perverted that she had tried to bury deep and yet it always kept afloat.

"You remember when you asked me who the father was," she began. Mickey nodded, he knew she was talking about when she had had the abortion. Mickey had discovered of her pregnancy only after she had gotten rid of the baby, when he had found her crying in the bathroom, her arms wrapped around her waist. Her brother had never really hugged her before, but that time he had held her in his arms until she had stopped crying. "I've never told you his identity. I was afraid of your reaction."

"I would've killed that motherfucker. He fucking raped you," Mickey replied. Mandy remembered her brother's angry words, half-begging, half-demanding that she told him who her rapist was.

She smiled softly at him. Out of her brothers, Mickey had always been the most protective of her.

"I think it's time I tell you the truth."

Mickey squeezed her hand again, this time with more strength. He was looking at her expectantly and yet so scared to finally know.

"He- he'd been raping me for years. After our mom... died. Every time he got drunk he mistook me for her. I tried to hide, but he'd always find me."

"Mandy..." Mickey whispered. She didn't need to say the name for her brother to understand she was talking about their dad. "Mands..."

She hadn't even noticed she was crying until Mickey wiped off a tear from her cheek. "It lasted until I got pregnant. I- I didn't know what to do, Mick. You had just started college... Tony sleeps at his own house. I was alone. I tried to hide the pregnancy." She scoffed. Fuck, it had been so stupid. "As if hiding it would make it disappear, right? I used I don't know how many pregnancy tests. All positive, of course. Then he discovered about it."

She didn't want to tell him how he had discovered about her pregnancy. How she had cried about it a night when Terry had been drunk again. The truth had made her father climb down from on top of her and the next day he had brought her to a clinic.

"He had never touched me again after the abortion. And... You know the rest." The drugs, her bad company, the rehabilitation center.

Fuck, she was crying so much. How the fuck was that even possible? Mickey did how he'd done in the past, in that bathroom years ago. He hugged her tight and let her cry all her tears. When she was a bit calmer, Mickey stood up.

"I'm going to kill him." Mickey had been hugging her in such a comforting way, but now his eyes were angry. And thirsty for blood. Her brother looked ready to slit their father's throat right that instant. At the fucking police station. She couldn't have that. She hadn't kept the secret for so many years just to see her brother ruining his life forever. There was another, more deserving life they had to destroy.

Mandy grabbed his arm. "Mick," she said, as calm as she could.

Mickey looked at her. She patted on the chair he had been occupying. With a sigh he sat down again.

"Mick, tell me about your plan."

Her brother started explaining and Mandy listened carefully to every word.

This was the night where their lives started to change.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you haven't noticed, Gene (Yevgeny) Kudrin was at the Christmas party with Mickey and Mandy.
> 
> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!  
> If you wanna chat or you have any questions: my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	31. I didn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I-I miss you."
> 
> Mickey chuckled. "Me too. But not for long, Firecrotch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end!

"No, he's not married, Ian," Mandy was saying on the other end of the line. She sounded edgy, ecstatic, nervous, feverish. Yet there was no trace of fear in her voice. "Listen, I really need to go now. We're all so fucking busy so...  But everything's fine, promise. Bye!"

Ian looked fairly surprised by the abrupt ending of the call. Never once had he thought he would ever feel angry at his best friend. But now his sentiment was less best friend-ish and Ian would just love to slap her face.

What the fuck did it mean 'everything's fine'? Mickey wasn't married? How? Ian didn't know anything, not a damn thing. And for sure the two Milkovich siblings weren't helping to keep him up to date.

Ian had received a text in the middle of the night. From Mickey. It was a reply to Ian's previous text.

 

**[7:45 PM]: Don't do this**

 

**[1:19 AM] Mick: I didn't**

 

Ian had read the text with his heart beating so freaking hard in his chest. He had called Mickey as soon as he had taken a deep breath. The meaning of that text had seemed rather hopeful, but Ian had thought it was better to hear from Mickey before starting to jump like an idiot.

Except that when he had called, nobody had connected the call on the other line. The redhead had tried and tried and fucking tried, but Mickey had never answered and eventually the line got busy. Who had  Mickey been talking to?

That was the reason why Ian had tried talking to Mandy.

Yeah, right.

Mandy had gotten rid of him with a not even one minute call.

Ian now knew that Mickey wasn't getting married any time soon and that he and his siblings were up to something. Oh, and that everything would go just fine, according to Mandy.

But how that little information could be enough? It made him thirstier, at most. Ian needed to know everything, needed to hear from Mickey. Fuck, he needed Mickey.

Today was the day Mickey should have been legally tied to that woman. Instead it wasn't happening anymore and Ian didn't know what to do with it. Should he be happy because Mickey was his again? Or should he be crying because Mickey was now at the fucking hospital? Was Mickey hiding somewhere? Was Mickey okay? Was he even in this fucking dimension? Fuck! No one was telling him fucking anything. Ian's mind did not agree with the situation.

"Enough," Ian muttered. He grabbed his laptop and opened it. He was so going to book a flight to Chicago. As soon as possible.

Of course with his fucking luck, the first flight to Chicago available was due the morning after. Ian muttered a curse before booking the flight. He'd have to bottle up his confused anger or relief or whatever the fuck he should feel right now until the next day. Fuck, Ian didn't even know if he was supposed to be worried or not.

 

**[11:35 AM]: should i be worried?**

 

Ian sent the same text both to Mandy and Mickey. He also added.

 

**[11:36 AM] you can't leave me here fucking hanging whats going on?**

 

Again, to both the two fuckheads.

Ian was waiting for their reply, or at least a reply from either one of them, but text he received was from someone else.

It was from Sam and Ian was at first tempted to just discard it. Usually Sam's texts were a good distraction. Usually gross but funny. And incredibly gay. But this time Ian knew he wouldn't be able to laugh, his whole mind already in Chicago. Yet the message Ian could read from the screen, made him open Sam's chat. What he saw caused Ian's eyes to widen at an unnatural width.

There was a link to YouTube and then the texts full of emojis:

 

**[2:03 PM] Sam: My gaydar works then!! I knew it!!**

**[2:03 PM] Sam: Mickey Milkovich IS GAY!**

**[2:04 PM] Sam: But really. Hes a bottom? WTF!**

**[2:04 PM] Sam: warning for graphic violence! this familys seriously fucked up!**

 

What the fuck? What was happening? How the fuck did Sam know? Graphic violence? This was definitely Confusion Day for Ian, who clicked on the link after a second of hesitation.

The title was: rehearsal dinner coming out!

 

_ The video started with silence. The camera was pointed at Mickey, who was standing with a wine glass in his hand. He must have said something quite appalling because people were watching him with bemused expressions. Then the waiters resumed bringing food. _

_ "Fuck, thought something good was gonna happen." Ian heard the disappointed voice of the one holding the phone. _

_ Someone snickered next to him. "Keep on recording, Stan. The guy just came out, I'm sure- WHOA!!" _

_ The camera moved from Mickey to focus on his father, who had just flipped his table. The man growled and like a fucking bull charged against his son. _

_ "I'll fucking kill you!" Terry shouted during the fistfight with Mickey, the left side of his head dripping blood after Mickey had smashed a bottle against it. Ian looked with horror at Terry straddling his son and punching him. The camera was close to the scene now, sign that the kid with the phone had moved to better film the fight. Terry seemed completely unaware of his surroundings, he was a madman, and he didn't notice Mandy coming behind him and crack a chair against his back. Mandy yelled and spat at him. Ian had never seen his friend so fierce before. _

_ Ian saw Mickey on top of his father, pummeling his face. Then his brothers separating the two of them, still looking at each other with murderous eyes. _

_ The camera was focused on them when someone shouted _

_ "Police!" _

_ It all happened so fast. The camera was still rolling when the officers brought Mickey and Terry outside, yelling profanities at each other. Outside there were two police cars waiting for them. _

_ The crowd around them was too thick for the camera to show what was going on. The boy tried to stretch his arm up but he was really just a kid and not tall enough to film more of the red and blue lights of the cars. Yet, it was possible to hear the two Milkovich's voices, which were loud while the crowd was silent and listening. _

_ "You're fucking dead, you hear me boy?! You're not my son anymore!" Terry shouted. _

_ "I don't fucking care! Fuck you!" _

_ "Get out of my house, you cock sucker!" _

_ "Oh yeah! I so am! I suck big, fat cocks! Especially my guy's, you remember him, right? He was making me moan so much. I suck his dick and I fucking love it!" _

_ "I'll fucking destroy you!" _

_ "Oh yeah? Shove my political career up your ass! Just like I do with his cock. He gives it to me good and hard and I take it all!" _

_ Ian could hear the sound of a car door being opened and then shut. The video ended with the kid turning his camera around and let his face be seen together with his friend's. They were open mouthed for a second and then started laughing. _

_ "Best coming out ever!" His friend said. _

 

The video had already thousands of views. There were comments as well, but Ian didn't bother to read them. The redhead was fucking blushing, his heart was beating so fast in his chest it seemed about to jump from his chest.

Mickey had simply replied with the words 'I didn't', but he had done so much more. He had gone against his father. With his words, his fists. With everything. It wasn't just about not getting married, Mickey had admitted who he was and had fought for it.

But now what Mickey was going to do? He and Mandy seemed too busy to even talk to him so did they have any plan?

Ian remembered what Mickey had said back when they had been escorted to the police station after the accident. That Milkoviches held a fucking immunity from the police and they would never get arrested. So what was happening now in Chicago? Even from the video, Terry was clearly the aggressor, but was it enough to keep him locked up in some cell? Ian didn't think so. Especially since the victim was his own son. It wouldn't be surprising if the Chicago PD would just call it 'a family thing' and let him go, ready to make his children pay in blood.

Fuck, Ian was now worrying sick.

 

**[1:56 PM]: I saw the video. U need to call me asap**

 

Ian had a lesson in the afternoon, but instead he remained in his own room, staring at his phone. Until it buzzed to life.

 

**[4:47 PM] Mick: what video**

 

Ian snorted. Seriously? That's all Mickey wanted to know?

 

**[4:48 PM]: always so nice talking to u. Here**

 

Ian sent the YouTube link.

As expected he didn't hear from Mickey again.

Okay. That was it. Ian didn't just need to read his texts or hear his voice. He needed to see him right away. He was worried about him, so fucking much. He wanted to see his face and look with his own eyes how battered it would be. And he had to hug Mickey tightly and finally know what was going on.

Ian only wished it was already next morning.

 

***

 

**[11:15 AM]: Well, guess what? Im in Chicago now you're gonna explain**

 

Ian arrived in Chicago and texted both Mandy and Mickey, hoping to receive a reply as soon as possible, from either one of them. He hadn't slept at all last night, just rolling around in bed. Sometimes thinking that everything was going to be fine, other times dreading the worst. When Ian had tried to watch the coming out video again, the content had been removed.

Even talking with Alan hadn't been of great help. Probably because his roommate was the most realistic one between them and he tended to give Ian pessimist scenarios. If anything, the conversation Ian had with him only made the redhead even more worried.

Waiting for a taxi, Ian heard his phone ringing. It was a text. Ian decided to wait to read it until he had fetched a cab and, as soon as he did, he unlocked the screen of his phone, seeing it was a message from Mandy.

It gave Ian an address to go and another link, but this time to a blog address. Ian knew the blogger, or at least his reputation. He studied journalism, he had to know who The ChicagoWanderer was. Ian had even told Mickey about them while they had been chilling out on the bed, Ian checking out the blog.

_ "Whatcha reading?" Mickey asked, annoyed for having lost again at Candy Crush. _

_ Ian shrugged. "This blog, The ChicagoWanderer. It's pretty amazing journalism. It came up in a class. As soon as they named the word Chicago I was interested but really, it's mind blowing. They are fearless, you know? They publish the facts, mostly from the city but not only, and they're not scams or about the latest trends. This one article was an accusation to the mayor, embezzlement. They published it and they were fucking right. Now the mayor is under inquiry." _

_ Mickey nodded but he didn't appear that interested. _

_ "You should be concerned, you know?" Ian said. _

_ "And why's that?" _

_ The redhead chuckled. "Well if you ever manage to become mayor in the future you're gonna have to behave." _

_ Mickey snorted and shook his head. He kissed him on his neck and went back to try winning the fucking level. _

Back then, Mickey had maybe appeared not interested, but it was now clear that he had listened attentively to every word.

TERRY MILKOVICH: CHICAGO'S OWN SHADOW KING

That was the title that appeared on Ian's phone after clicking on the link. The article sucked him in after the first words and Ian spent almost the entire ride to the address Mandy had given him reading.

It was a long fucking article, but no words was wasted on it. It was full of information about the illegal activities that Terry Milkovich had/ still was perpetrating. About how he greased the hands of the Chicago's finest. About his transportation of illegal goods through the country. About his silent agreements with authorities who would turn a blind eye for a profit... The list was long but also accurate. Even if no other Milkovich than Terry was nominated, it was clear to Ian that the source of all the info were the Milkovich siblings. They had given up their father to the public. Now Terry was exposed.

The cab was about to arrive to the given destination, when Mickey called.

Ian stared at the screen blinking Mick's name when he finally resolved to accept the call.

"Mick?" Another time, Ian would've hated himself for sounding so hopeful and dumb.

"Yeah. Where are you? Mandy told me you're coming." Fuck. It was so good hearing his voice. Ian had missed it for far too long.

"I am! I think I'm actually on the street of the address?"

"What?" Ian heard some rustling on the other side. "I'm going outside."

Ian smiled and flattened his face against the car window to see any black haired guy coming out of the main door of one of those houses. "I-I miss you."

Mickey chuckled. "Me too. But not for long, Firecrotch."

"Are you okay, Mick? Really okay?"

Finally Ian saw the man he was looking for, right on the sidewalk. He must have seen the cab, because he waved towards Ian's direction. The redhead noticed the bruises and the cuts on his face, his broken nose. Yet Mickey had never looked more beautiful.

"Yeah, I am, I really am."

Mickey locked eyes with Ian as the redhead climbed out of the cab. He smiled, still holding his phone to his ear even if Ian was now standing in front of him.

"Ian, I'm free."

 

***

 

Fall had always been Ian's favorite season when living in Chicago. Now he realized that it had been mostly due to being a child waiting for Halloween, the only day a year where the Gallaghers could stuff their bellies with free candies and chocolates.

Now though, Ian could see Fall in the Southside as it really was: cold and full of garbage. A few years back gentrification had started but some of the families born and raised there had fought tooth and nail to keep their run-down houses. After deeming the neighborhood too violent for their own good, the bourgeois who had first tried to live there had given up. Now Canaryville hosted poor houses and half build constructions or former rich's houses now inhabited by squatters. It was quite a baffling view.

"You really lived here? It's a dump," Mickey commented as they were walking down the street.

Ian rolled his eyes. "Yes. I really lived here. Until I was fifteen. Exactly..." Ian saw the Balls old house. They had sold it to the highest bidder back then when the prices for a house there were skyrocketing and moved norther. And, just looking a little bit farther ahead... "There."

The old Gallagher's house. Looking exactly the same.

"That one? Nice," Mickey snarked.

"Yeah well, it was cozy," Ian replied, fastening his steps and reaching the fence. "And we're still fond of it. That's why we've never sold it."

There had been talks about selling it. Surprisingly, it had been Lip the main defendant for keeping the house. Ian had sided up with him against the girls. Carl had been wooed and bribed in any possible way by both parties until he had decided that in the end it was nice to still have their house back in Chicago.

So they had kept it and Ian had never been happier of that decision like he was now. He wanted to show Mickey where he had been growing up for most of his life. He desired for Mickey to know more of him.

"The yard looks like a jungle," Mickey said, pointing at the grass that was now knee high. "And there are cans and other junk in it."

"It's been, what, two years since we've last been here? It's already something that nobody has taken shelter in the house." They had asked to this cop Tony Markovich to keep an eye on it, a family friend who had promised to do that without even asking for anything. Well, except for a loan from Fiona to buy his own house in the neighborhood.

Mickey looked at his surroundings and pulled down the left sleeve of his jacket. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Ian.

"Covering your Rolex?" Ian asked with a grin. "Good choice. I'd hate to see you getting robbed on the spot."

Mickey shrugged. He didn't look exactly at ease.

"Never been in the Southside?" the redhead asked, surprised.

"Sometimes, during the night. With friends. I think we were already wasted because it looked better than it does now. Or maybe it's just too horrible in the reality of the daylight."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Oh Master Mickey I feel so bad now that I took you away from your family and brought you here!" he said with an exaggerated tone of voice.

Mickey flipped him off.

When Ian had arrived at the address given by Mandy, he had found out it was Tony Milkovich's home address. The siblings were staying there since it felt safer than going back to their father's house. Colin and Iggy would take a plane back to their respective cities in a few days. But Mickey would remain in Chicago and Ian had offered his old place to him.

Meeting his siblings had been fucking weird. Mandy he knew of course and he had met Iggy at the police station months ago. But Iggy now was fully aware of who he was to Mickey.

_ "Oh, you must be his guy with a big, fat cock who gives it to him good and hard," Iggy deadpanned while shaking Ian's hand. Ian's face became the shade of red of his hair and Mickey started to cough violently. _

_ "What the fuck, Iggy!" he shouted once he had calmed down a bit. _

_ Iggy raised his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, your coming out was just epic, man." _

_ Mickey glared at him, but Ian was surprised he didn't do anything more. It was so odd seeing Mickey with his siblings talking about his homosexuality. He still didn't look completely at ease, but it was such a huge improvement from before. And the fact that his brothers seemed okay with him being gay, certainly helped. _

_ Colin was laughing when he greeted Ian. "So, what are your intentions with my brother?" he asked with a fake serious expression. _

_ Ian didn't know what to say and just shrugged, looking at Mickey for help. _

_ "Oh, just leave him alone, Colin," Mickey said, the deep pink on his cheeks doing nothing to hide his embarrassment. _

_ "Buuuh, Mick. Your boyfriend's not funny," Colin said. Mickey and Ian looked at him with wide eyes and that spurred Colin to laugh again. "You are boyfriend and boyfriend, right?" _

_ Mickey stole a glance at Ian's direction. Ian smiled shyly at him. "I guess..." Mickey muttered. _

_ The two brothers only chuckled, but Ian's heart was fucking dancing. _

Mickey had dragged him outside as soon as he could and they had taken a taxi to the Southside. Ian had asked the Milkovich siblings about the article, but Mickey had told him he would've have explained later.

So now they were entering Ian's house and they still hadn’t kissed once. At first because of his brothers and now because they were in the Southside. And Ian was dying to do that.

"Well, better than I expected," Mickey commented as soon as they were in the living room. Ian smiled.

"My brother Lip and I renovated the interior a couple years ago. We did everything. Paint, furniture..." The house was now tidy, except from the dust. The walls were covered in clean wall papers and they had changed the couch, as well as the kitchen appliances. The house had a nice atmosphere and Ian was too happy to see Mickey in it. "We changed all the bed upstairs and we had to redo the bathroom completely. Lip may be an engineer but he sucks as a plumber."

Mickey leaned against a wall. "Two years ago, so..."

"I was just starting to take care of myself. I was out of the hospital, but I was still... not myself? The doctor approved Lip's project and we flew back to Chicago to fix the house. It was... nice."

Ian smiled thinking about Lip and him covered in paint. Or when Lip had hammered his thumb. Ian had even had his first beer since the hospitalization and man, it had felt good.

He noticed Mickey smirking at him. "Whatcha thinking about?" Mickey asked.

Ian shrugged. "Old memories."

Mickey licked his bottom lip, nodding. He closed the distance between them and cocked his head a bit on the side. "Wanna make new memories?"

Ian burst into laughter because Mickey had accompanied his corny suggestion with a ridiculous wiggling of his eyebrows. "C'mon, Mick-"

He got pushed against the nearby wall, Mickey was pressing against him. Mickey's eyes settled on Ian's lips and he bit his owns. Ian met his mouth, closing his eyes and letting himself to enjoy the moment to the fullest. It started as a tender kiss, but it soon turned into a deep, hungry kiss...

"Ouch!" Mickey winced in pain when Ian's nose hit his and immediately covered it with his hand.

"Oh fuck! Sorry!" Ian exclaimed, immediately worried.

Mickey shook his head. "It's fine, Ian." He hinted a small smile. "Just easy on the injured nose, aight?" Ian nodded and leaned down again to touch Mickey's forehead with his own.

"Sorry for the rush. I just really missed you," he whispered.

Mickey hummed in agreement, before pulling Ian down for another kiss.

 

***

 

Ian had paid for the various bills and they would've had a warm house. Tomorrow.

It was strange. They couldn't even watch television, but they couldn't care less, entangled as they were on the couch. They had ordered pizza and there was nothing like pizza as housewarming food. Not that they were a housewarming, but it almost felt like it. There was enough light outside they still didn't need candles and it was the right amount of cold to put a blanket over their bodies.

They fell asleep without realizing it, both too tired to do more than closing their eyes and breathing the same air. Ian hadn’t slept at all the night before and now, with Mickey in his arms, sleep had come natural to him.

When they woke up, it was dark. Ian felt Mickey stirring next to him and muttering something like "Where's the light".

"Sorry, no light until tomorrow," Ian apologized. Then he got up to retrieve some candles from one of the kitchen drawers. He lit them up with his lighter and they were finally able to see something.

Mickey looked at the time. "It's already 10? What the fuck," he murmured in a groggy voice.

Ian placed a candle on the coffee table and sat again on the couch, right next to Mickey. "Guess we were both tired."

"You bet. Yesterday was... hectic to say the least." He yawned and leaned his head against Ian's shoulder.

"Because of the article?"

Mickey nodded. "Yeah. I got in touch with The ChicagoWanderer as soon as I had a talk with my siblings. From then on things got so fucking busy. This was the first sleep I had in two days."

"I-I read it. It was... Fuck. I didn't know it was so bad."

Mickey scoffed. "And the article doesn't even cover everything. You must have noticed we didn't name anyone of importance. It was too fucking risky. I don't want for any of my siblings to have repercussions because of the article. Our goal is to sink down Terry's ship, not to get killed. This way we only made him totally unappealing for his clients and partners. Or at least I hope so."

Mickey huffed a breath and Ian wrapped his arms around him "You did good."

Mickey nodded against Ian's neck. "If even one of my siblings gets in trouble because of the article I... I don't know-"

"Don't even think about it. The article was good and only Terry will get the hit. Actually the info on it were so fucking detailed, the authorities can't turn a blind eye this time."

"Of course they were detailed. I looked for them while I was spending my time drinking in my father's office. Terry never suspected anything. How can I blame him, I was drunk for real, not faking that." He snorted. "As soon as my brothers came to pick us from the precinct we went to the house and took all the important files with us."

There was a tiny bit of pride in Mickey's voice, for what he had done. And Ian was so glad for it. Mickey had never sounded proud once when talking about his dad. But this time he had stepped up to him.

Ian placed both his hands on the sides of Mickey's face. He pecked his lips. "I'm so glad you're my boyfriend."

Fuck. Even in the semi-darkness of the room, Mickey was unmistakably red as a lobster. "Y-yeah. Of course you are," he mumbled without looking Ian in the eyes.

Ian chuckled and kissed him one more time, now with more passion and Mickey responded as eagerly.

"Wanna see the rooms upstairs?" Ian asked suggestively.

Mickey nodded.

They made a run for the stairs, touching each other, bumping their shoulders, until Ian lead Mickey in what had been Fiona's room, then Lip's, and now was Ian and Mickey's room for the night.

"You know. The mattress had never been used. It's all new," Ian said, licking Mickey's bottom lip.

Mickey let his hands roaming under Ian's shirt. "Oh yeah? Need to be baptized?"

"Desperately." For the sake of the bed, Ian didn't waste any more time and lifted Mickey up, letting him fall back on the mattress. Ian got on top of him, resuming their kissing.

Even though they were horny and craved for more, they decided to go slow. To savor the moment. They hadn't needed to say anything, they were just following each other's lead. Ian undressed him gradually and Mickey did the same. Piece by piece, kisses after kisses, they found themselves naked against each other.

"You're beautiful," Ian murmured, staring at Mickey bathed in the moonlight. Mickey was pale and perfect and... Maybe Ian was biased, but even with his face purple and yellow and a cut on his nose, Mickey looked so fucking pretty.

Mickey snorted and looked at the wall. "Aren't you glad you got such a sexy boyfriend."

Ian's smile reached his ears, but he tried to play it cool. "I said beautiful, not sexy."

"You mean I'm not sexy, Firecrotch?" Mickey arched one of his eyebrows.

"What? No, no!" Ian lost his cool the second after. "You're sexy,  _ and _ beautiful. And I love touching you. Kissing you... Fucking you. I really just love you."

This time Mickey didn't avert his eyes, but just smiled at him. "Yeah, I know. Love you too."

Mickey pulled him down for a kiss, but Ian's lips touched his chin, instead. The trail of kisses moved down, with Ian nipping and licking his way to Mickey's cock, already hard and leaking for him. Ian kissed its tip, pressing his tongue against the slit. Mickey moaned and Ian took him in his mouth.

Stretching his arm out of the bed, Mickey reached for his jeans pocket, retrieving a small sachet of lube and giving it to Ian. The redhead didn't stop sucking him when he started stretching him with his slicked fingers. Mickey didn't seem to know anymore if he wanted to move up to Ian's mouth or down on his fingers.

"Ian, just... c'mere... Fuck."

Licking his lips, Ian climbed up again, kissing Mickey and letting him taste himself on his tongue. Mickey indulged in the kiss, but then he reached again for the pocket, taking out a condom wrapper. He looked at Ian.

"I'm clean. I was protected with the prostitute and with Lana... I took a test. But it's okay if you, uhm..."

"I didn't fuck with anyone else," Ian replied, his expression serious.

"You didn't?" There was relief on Mickey's face and he sighed, throwing the condom on the floor.

Ian shook his head. "Couldn't. Didn't even cross my mind, actually."

The shorter guy smiled at him. Then he spread his legs for Ian, letting him adjusting himself over him.

"You're beautiful too, you know," Mickey said, staring at Ian on top of him. His breath hitched when Ian pushed inside him and every words he had wanted to say, disappeared to be replaced by moans and gasps.

 

***

 

It was the fucking dawn when Mickey's phone started ringing. Mickey had to disentangle himself from Ian's arms to answer and he was so not happy about it.

"Yeah," he mumbled in a husky voice.

Whoever was on the other side of the line, made Mickey clear his throat and reply with a normal voice, or at least the most normal Mickey could have, with a broken nose and after having screamed Ian's name for the whole night.

Ian rested on his side, watching an agitated Mickey speaking about the article on his father, grabbing Ian's phone to write some notes on it.

When the call ended, Mickey said his goodbye and left the phone on the nightstand. He took a deep breath. Worried, Ian placed a hand on Mickey's thigh, rubbing soothingly on the skin.

"Is everything okay?" Ian was almost reluctant to ask.

Mickey scoffed. He turned back to Ian and nodded. "Fuck yes. This was the call I've been waiting for."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!  
> If you wanna chat or you have any questions: my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	32. No matter what the circumstances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end, folks!  
> I wanted to thank everyone. I loved all your comments, they made my day, really <3

Mickey opened the door to a dirty, fat Santa Claus.

"Oh-oh! Merry Christmas to you and your family!" the dressed up man greeted. His breath smelled like whiskey and he was swinging an almost empty money bucket under Mickey's nose.

Mickey remained silent for a moment, before slamming the door in his face.

"Fuck off!" he exclaimed.

Ian was climbing down the stair with his overstuffed duffel bag. He placed it on the floor. "What happened?"

Mickey only shrugged. "Another drunk Santa. Christ, Ian. This neighborhood can't have decent, jolly old men asking for money?"

The redhead chuckled. He had probably never seen a sober Santa in all his years spent in the Southside. "Sorry."

His boyfriend shrugged. "Anyway. Don't you think you're bringing too much stuff?" he asked, pointing at the duffel bag. Ian sighed.

"You always say that. Not my fault that you could live for days with only the same clothes you have now. Ew."

"If it were up to me, we could just spend these days naked in bed. No need for a fucking change of clothes. Only in birthday suits."

Ian chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, well. Not happening. Got your stuff ready?"

Mickey rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb, taking time. "Still not done." He came closer to Ian, hooking his fingers in Ian's jeans loops. He cocked an eyebrow. "I don't wanna pack, I wanna fuck."

The redhead smiled at him, but he detached himself from Mickey. "Nope. You pack and then we take a taxi."

His boyfriend huffed. "Fine," he mumbled, going upstairs to finish stuffing his backpack.

Ian watched him going up the stairs and sighed. Mickey was nervous and he was trying to come up with every possible excuse not to go. He had even suggested to give himself to Ian for a whole night to do what he pleased. Even wrapping a fucking red ribbon on his cock. But Ian was firm in his decision and Mickey with his cute grumpy face would have to deal with it.

While waiting for him, Ian looked around the house to see if they had closed all the windows. He didn't notice the box on the floor and almost tripped on it. "Fuck!"

He was pretty sure to know who the culprit was. Why was Mickey always so fucking messy? Ian loved the guy but man, he would appreciate if Mickey could at least put the files someplace else. Maybe a place a little more secure since they were hot. The redhead lifted the box to sort through the files the FBI had left Mickey. Yeah, he should definitely hide the box somewhere.

 

***

 

_"RICO?"_

_Mandy looked at Iggy, the lawyer in their family. He nodded, while looking at one of the files that SA Dozier had given each Milkovich._

_"There are the grounds to open a RICO, yeah."_

_SA Dozier and his partner SA Tieri sat on the other side of the oval table. After having called Mickey they had set up an appointment to meet all the Milkoviches involved._

_"Terry Milkovich's operations have been in our radar for years now. But until the article came out we weren't sure that he and his family were actually at the head of it all," said SA Tieri said. "As we told your brother Michael, we have a contact in The ChicagoWanderer and they contacted us about it."_

_Mandy knew that this was Mickey's plan all along. Writing that article had only been the first step. A blog could not stop their father. The federal law could, instead. But this was a whole new level of danger. It was at high risk, with more parts in play._

_On the bright side, it would put Terry away for good._

_"We'll need to lawyer up," said Colin and Tony nodded eagerly. Building a huge case like that, Tony in particular would be the most vulnerable. He had helped their father in his dirty money laundry for years. He was the one who knew the most, true. But he was also a possible target. Mandy covered his hand with her own. He smiled softly at her._

_She knew that the secret about her pregnancy had been the one thing that had convinced Tony to help his siblings. Mickey had asked her if she could tell their brothers the truth, when Tony and also Colin had seemed to have too many doubts about going against their father. She had revealed the identity of Terry Milkovich as the rapist for a reason, but it had felt liberating and Mandy wasn't regretting it._

_"Of course. This suit will put before a federal court. It's essential that you have attorneys to defend you. I may suggest not to use any of the lawyers in your legal firm, though. There will probably be an inquiry on it, too."_

_Iggy, who should have been the one to object, was actually the most relieved by that advice. Mandy was aware that her older brother didn't like how things worked at the legal firm in Boston. Once he had told her that he felt dirty even just following their uncle's cases. The people they protected, the reasons why they protected them... They made him sick. He was the only one among the Milkovich siblings who wanted not just Terry, but also the other branches of the family under inquiry._

_"You're not leaving us much of a choice, are you?" Mickey asked, putting down the sheet of paper he had been reading._

_"It's really the only way if you want Terry Milkovich in jail for the rest of his life," SA Dozier replied._

_Mickey nodded. "I guess it is."_

 

_***_

 

Mickey was looking out of the car window, watching the snow falling down. Next to him on the backseat of the taxi, Ian took out his phone. He knew it was a sap move, but he was watching again the tons of selfies he had taken with Mickey. The gallery was also full of solo pictures of Mickey. Mickey making pancakes, Mickey sleeping, Mickey dozing off on the couch. His collection would be deemed as borderline stalkerish but Mick was his damn boyfriend. So fuck off.

While Ian was deciding if it was a good idea to shoot a picture of Mickey looking out of the car window, his phone buzzed. It was a short video from Mandy. He pressed play and the video started with the camera focused on a television screen, showing Mandy's last placement as first in one of Mario Kart's level.

_"I beat all of you, bitches!" Mandy shouted, turning around the camera to show her and her pretty middle finger. "Who's the queen, huh? Who's the best?!"_

_She pointed the camera towards Alan, who was sulking on the couch. Mandy jumped on it, close to the loser of the game. The camera was now filming both Mandy and Alan's faces._

_"C'mon Al, tell Ian and that grouch how awesome am I!"_

_Alan blushed and looked away from the camera. "You're such a shitty winner..." he mumbled, before getting up and disappearing from the screen. Mandy blew him a raspberry, but she was smiling._

_"He's the shitty loser," Mandy said, nodding. She pointed the camera to a suitcase. "Plane is in a few hours. Should better go. Still, it's not fair that you're stealing Mickey away for Christmas!" Then she looked thoughtful. "No wait, keep him. It'll be a nice change not seeing his bitch face when Santa's coming. Byeeee! Also from Alan. He's so not a sport. Call you tomorrow!"_

The video ended and Ian noticed that Mickey had been watching it too. He had a fond smile on his face and Ian loved to see this particular expression of his. It was becoming more frequent, too. Ian considered it as a huge step for him. It meant he was more at ease expressing his true emotions.

"I still don't get how your sister can't see that Alan likes her," Ian commented, pocketing his phone. "She's been living there for two months now."

Mickey shrugged. "You see the bunch of losers she dated, you get it. She's not used to guys not making the first move."

Ian grinned. "What an attentive older brother you are!"

His boyfriend scoffed and went back to see the snow falling outside.

 

***

 

_Ian was there when the Milkovich brothers made a coalition together to convince Mandy to go back to college. She wanted to stay in Chicago and help them building the RICO suit, but they wanted her to finish her education._

_Their reasons were simple, but effective. She was the only one out of them still an undergraduate, she didn't know anything about Terry's illegal activities and there was also the money issue. The college tuition for the whole academic year had already been paid in advance and nobody knew if they would still have enough money in the future. So it was better for Mandy to make the best of her time in college while she could._

_Mandy argued that she was her own person and if she wanted to be close to her brothers in such a difficult time, she was fucking entitled to. Plus, she had already given up her dorm room._

_That was why Ian offered her his room on campus. Mickey twisted his head to look at Ian, but before he could say something, Mandy spoke._

_"You'd give me your room? I like your room." She had been almost on the verge of crying, but Ian's offer had stopped her. She didn't want to go back to college if she didn't have a place to sleep. A place where she was comfortable._

_Ian nodded. "For the time being. Yeah. But don't try to throw any of my stuff out."_

_Mandy smiled. "Never."_

_It took a little more convincing and arguing with Mandy before she admitted defeat and accepted to go back to Boston. She had even accused all of them to be heartless bastards, misogynists who couldn't stand a woman's presence and miser human beings. In the end, Mandy started packing her shit. Not without grumbling all the way to the airport._

_It was only when they were home that Mickey decided to bring out the topic he had been mulling over since Ian had offered Mandy his room._

_"You're not really thinking to stay here, are you?" Mickey asked, going for the fridge to get a beer for himself._

_Ian frowned. "Yeah, of course I am."_

_Mickey placed the beer down before he could even take a sip."You can't be serious."_

_"Why not? You're staying here and I should go back studying? Yeah, not gonna happen."_

_Ian had thought about his decision several times already. But every time, the solution was always the same: he needed to stay. He wouldn't be able to concentrate on his studies if he knew Mickey far away doing God knows what for the federal justice. Ian didn't even trust his brain to behave._

_"Fuck, Ian. Do I have to call my brothers to start another intervention? You can't stay here," Mickey said._

_"Do you want me to go?"_

_His boyfriend sighed. "No. I don't want you to go. But it's better if you do. For yourself."_

_"Okay, if you don't want me to go, I won't," Ian affirmed, completely deaf to the rest of the sentence._

_"For Christ's sake, Ian! It looks like I'm talking to the wall, here." Mickey let out an exasperated gasp._

_Ian shrugged._

_"And don't give me the fucking chin, man!"_

_Ian hadn't even noticed he was giving Mickey his famous 'the chin'. But really, how could Mickey even think Ian was going to fly back to Boston any time soon? "I don't wanna leave you," Ian said. Matter-of-factly._

_"Well, tough tits. You're going."_

_Mickey sounded adamant, but so was Ian. Mickey had probably his own ideas of what was better for his boyfriend, but that didn't mean he was right._

_"I've already decided. I'm taking a leave, at least until you don't know something for sure"_

_Mickey bitterly chuckled. "Until I know something? It could be a month, two, six fucking months. Even more."_

_"Then I'll wait for you." He glared at Mickey with an absolute seriousness on his face. "With you."_

_The months Ian had been away from him had been excruciating. Now, even if they knew how they were standing, Mickey's situation was so fragile, so uncertain, that it was simply impossible for Ian to be away from him._

_The shorter guy sighed. "Ian, think about it. I don't know what's gonna happen to me, to all my siblings. There's a huge possibility we're gonna lose our money and... and then what? How long are you going to wait? I'm going back to my brother's. You should go. It's not worthy-"_

_"Don't even say it," Ian interrupted. He came closer, resting a hand against Mickey's cheek. He rubbed on it with his thumb. Softly. "Don't say it's not worthy because it is. I matter to you and you matter to me. We wouldn't be here, otherwise." He smiled softly at his boyfriend. "I'm not taking a permanent leave. I just need to see what's going on. At least for the beginning. I don't want you to face all this without my support. You need me and you don't even know it."_

_Mickey scoffed. He leaned against his hand. "I do know it. It's just- I don't want you to keep your life on hold for me, okay?"_

_Mickey looked as if he really thought that. As if he was actually holding Ian back. All the redhead wanted to do was to hug him and so he did. "You're not. You're building your future and I'm so proud of you. I want to be part of it, if you let me."_

_He tightened the hold on Mickey and he responded in equal manner. Mickey then pulled back a little and looked at Ian as if he was the dumbest man alive. "Of fucking course I want you in my future." He scoffed. "Even if it means you transforming in a fucking sap. Fuck, man. I'd never thought possible I’d be saying something like 'I want you in my future'."_

_Ian laughed. "Terrible." He leaned in, kissing Mickey softly on the lips. Mickey pulled Ian by his neck to deepen the kiss. "So... I take it you're fine with living with me here, at least for a little while?" he whispered, biting at his bottom lip, his hands roaming down on Mickey's body._

_"I guess. For the time being... It's really easy to agree when you got your hand in my boxers." Ian kissed him on his cheek, hiding a smile. He palmed Mickey's cock underneath all the clothing._

_"Course. I'm here to take care of you."_

 

_***_

 

"At this time, make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position and that your seat belt is correctly fastened. Also, your portable electronic devices must be set to ‘airplane’ mode until an announcement is made upon arrival. Thank you."

They were listening to the pilot's speech without really paying attention to it. They had heard the same speech so many times they knew it by heart. They could be the fucking stewards since how well they knew all the safety procedures. Ian smiled, thinking of Mickey dressed up as a steward. He'd look...

"Hot."

"What, Firecrotch?" Mickey asked, turning back to face Ian, who just shook his head.

"Nothing, I was lost in thought."

Mickey smirked. "Sure. You were thinking how hot I look."

Ian's eyes widened. "How the fuck do you know?!"

His boyfriend started to laugh. "Seriously? That's what you were thinking?"

"You in a steward uniform, that's what I was thinking."

Mickey looked at one of the stewards who was making a demonstration. "Yeah, I'd look hot in it."

"You know, I think you'd look even hotter bent over in the small toilet here."

"I fucking knew it," Mickey throw his head back. "You still want to join the Mile High Club, don't you."

Ian grinned. "Guilty as charged."

The airplane finally started moving and took off. During its ascent, Ian took Mickey's hand in his.

"Scared of flying, Ian?" Mickey asked, with a huge smirk on his face. He didn't move his hand away. Their fingers interlocked and the hold became stronger, if nothing.

"Sure," Ian said, smiling at the feeling of being hand in hand with him.

 

***

 

_Ian was holding Mickey's hand when the guy started crying._

_They were sitting at the kitchen table and Mickey had just read an email from on of their lawyers. They were bad news, that much had been clear to Ian who had covered Mickey's hand with his own, intertwining their fingers together. He watched his boyfriend reading the email with a sad face._

_Mickey had just finished reading it for the second time, that a teardrop fell down. Mickey was so tired. Ian could see it from the dark circles under his eyes, from the way he'd heavily walk, from all the nights spent only by sleeping next to each other. The redhead felt so bad for him. Every time a bad news would come, Mickey seemed to grow smaller and smaller. This time he had not even been able to suppress a tear._

_"What happened?" Ian asked with a soft voice. He soothingly rubbed on Mickey's palm._

_Mickey let out a shaky breath. "I'm not fucking sure. Lawyers talking with their weird ass words. The only thing I understood is that Pops' own lawyers seem to work better than ours. Go figure."_

_"I'm sorry, Mick," Ian whispered._

_Mickey ran his free hand through his hair in an exasperated gesture. "Nothing seems to go as I'd like. I... Fuck, what did I bring my siblings into? You too..."_

_His boyfriend looked surprised when more tears fell down on his cheeks. He glared at Ian with a bewildered expression. It was not the first time that Mickey had been crying in front of Ian, but this time he was tired and he felt insecure. Guilty. He began to sob and it seemed there was no stopping it._

_"Mick..." Ian moved swiftly. He freed is hand only to wrap both his arms around Mickey's sobbing body. His hold was tight and Mickey seemed to feel better in such a suffocating grip. His crying didn't stop, but he was able to talk again, his voice muffled because of his face buried against Ian's neck._

_"It always seems like there's no way out of this. It sucks so fucking much... If something were to happen to any of my siblings, I-I..."_

_Ian kissed him on top of his head. He couldn't bear seeing Mickey so defeated. He only wanted the best for his love._

_"Everything's gonna be fine," Ian whispered, loud enough for Mickey to hear. "Don't you worry."_

_They both knew Ian's words lacked of solid basis. Yet they felt so reassuring to Mickey that slowly stopped crying._

 

***

 

They were still at the airport, waiting for Ian's duffel bag to appear on the conveyor belt.

"Seriously, man. If you hadn't stuffed it so much, we could already be out of here with our hand baggage," Mickey commented, looking at the suitcases passing in front of him. He had his arms crossed and looked annoyed.

Ian just found him so endearingly cute. How gone was he on Mickey? No, really.

"I had to. Like, bringing more sweatpants, boxers and sweaters. I already know you're gonna steal 'em from me."

Mickey snorted but Ian knew it was true. He could swear Mickey was wearing his boxer even right now. The redhead wasn't going to complain, though. He loved seeing Mickey wearing his underwear.

"Sure, Firecro- Oh! Here it is!" Mickey pointed to Ian's duffel bag, finally coming in their direction. Ian was fast to lift it up and he noticed his boyfriend licking his bottom lip, looking at his arm.

"Like my muscles, huh?" Ian said, a shit eating grin on his face.

Mickey shrugged. "Not that bad."

Ian laughed and put an arm around Mickey's shoulders and kiss him on his cheek. Mickey let him. There, in front of all the people waiting for their luggage. His boyfriend was becoming more and more at ease with with Ian's PDA and that was already such a huge Christmas Gift for Ian.

While they were walking towards the exit, Ian remembered to ask

"Did you bring the papers for Norton?"

Mickey sighed. "I'm gonna enroll for the next academic year. Chill. We got time."

Ian rolled his eyes. "But aren't you excited? You're finally gonna study architecture. I thought you'd be more enthusiast!" Fuck, Ian was enthusiast. For him. He was so glad his boyfriend was going to be back next August to study the subject he liked. Ian was already looking at fucking apartments to share with him. And yes, it was only December, but who cared? Between this and Christmas, Ian was fucking excited, a jolly redhead Santa's little Helper. And Mickey's.

Mickey instead looked always the same. Grumpy and with no cheerful Christmas feelings. But Ian knew better. He fucking lived with the guy, he knew that Mickey just wasn't used to like Christmas because of Terry Milkovich's Christmas Party. As he was aware that Mickey was happy and excited about studying architecture the next year. He simply didn't want to show it.

But Ian remembered his starry eyes while they were looking at the Faculty of Architecture program on their college's site, especially when he saw he could try to get admitted to the Master of Architecture since some of the classes he had taken during his four year period were listed in the requirements. He had looked like a kid, finally able to do whatever he wanted. Ian was still mad at himself for not having captured Mickey's expression on his phone.

"You're enthusiast for the both of us. It's enough," Mickey replied, sounding annoyed. But when Ian started to pout, he smiled at his redhead and patted on the backpack. "Got the papers with me, don't you worry."

Ian smiled at him, swooping Mickey in for a kiss.

 

***

 

_The first thing Ian noticed when Mickey opened the main door, was his smile._

_It had been so long since Ian had seen him smile that the corners of his own mouth perked up to imitate his beautiful grin._

_"Something good happened?" Ian asked, coming closer to greet him._

_"Maybe."_

_Mickey was trying to fake indifference, but he couldn't refrain himself from smiling like a really happy idiot._

_Ian kissed him and Mickey wrapped his arms around him, urging Ian to give him more. Tongue, hands on his body. The kiss left them breathless for a few moment._

_"Just tell me," Ian said softly, pecking him on the tip of his nose._

_Mickey tried to make Ian beg for the information, but his own mouth was a traitorous bastard and it just opened to tell him the news._

_"They accepted our deal. Mine and my siblings'. We... Fuck, I don't think there will be much money left at the end of this ordeal. They'll probably take everything they can from Pops, but our trust fund... It's safe, it won't be touched. That was in the deal, so..." Mickey was talking fast, sometimes stumbling over his words, but Ian was paying attention to him. "It's not that much since we gotta split it in five, but it should cover for-" Mickey shook his head, as if he had just noticed he had talked too much already._

_"Cover for what?" Ian pressed._

_Mickey was avoiding eye contact and Ian lifted Mickey's chin up with his thumb, forcing him to meet his eyes._

_Mickey sighed, but complied._

_"I mean, our living standards... If you liked me because I was rich, you gotta have some big disappointment along the way." His boyfriend looked almost serious, but when his smile schooled again on his face, Ian knew he just joking._

_"Yeah, of course. I just liked you for your money. That and your Viper."_

_Mickey chuckled. "Yeah, well. She's still in Boston, but I gotta sell her now."_

_"Your baby?" Ian exclaimed. He knew how much Mickey loved that car._

_"My baby's gonna find a new owner." Mickey shrugged. "It's okay. I already know how I'm gonna spend the money I'll get from her sale."_

_Ian frowned. "You do?"_

_He nodded. "Yeah. I was thinking... You know. Since my political career is pretty much ruined, that maybe... I could study Architecture now?" Ian looked surprised and Mickey took his expression for doubt. "You don't think I should?"_

_Ian shook his head. "I think that's a great idea, Mick." He leaned down to kiss him gently. "Plus, I mean. We could get to live together again. I think Mandy's not going to give me back my room so, you know, nothing's stopping us from getting an apartment near campus and-"_

_Mickey interrupted Ian's ramblings by kissing him. He had discovered it was an effective method to shut Ian up._

_"Okay," Mickey said, licking his bottom lip. "Let's try this, then."_

_Ian smiled. "Yeah. Let's fucking try."_

 

***

 

The scenario Mickey saw out of the cab window was different from the one they had left in Chicago. Snow wasn't falling and it was not that cold. Actually, it felt like they were still in the beginning of fall. The traffic and the tall buildings gave place to immense stretches of land, divided by fences and roads. The taxi pulled over in front of a big house so familiar to Ian and yet still so foreign to Mickey. They paid the driver and Ian took Mickey's hand, telling him to leave his backpack on the ground.

Mickey looked at him with nervous eyes. He seemed so uncomfortable and ready to bolt at any time, but this time Ian wasn't worried. There weren't many places around here Mickey could escape to.

"Oh, C'mon, Mick. You know you gotta meet them." Ian heard movement by the tents in the house, sign those fucking assholes were spying on them. "It was bound to happen sooner or later."

"Later?" Mickey suggested, almost hopeful.

"They're right behind the door. You just gotta say hello and try to act less grumpy than usual and maybe pretend to like them?"

Mickey sent him a death glare. "I don't wanna have anything to do with politics no more cause I don't like to pretend and now you want me to do just that?"

Ian smiled and ruffled Mickey's already messy hair. "Then just like them. They're nice, once you get to know them. I'm nice, am I not?"

Mickey scoffed. "Right now, not so much."

Ian was ready to jump on the banter, but the door opened and the inhabitants of the house walked towards the couple to greet them. They were a woman with beautiful brown, curly hair; a young man with dopey bright blue eyes and hair even messier than Mickey; a redhead girl with a little kid in her arms; another young man with a fucking shit eating grin, locking hands with a blonde girl. And then there was this kid with big brown eyes who launched himself at Ian.

"Ian!" the kid shouted, before hugging Ian as best as he could. He seemed to notice Mickey's presence only in that moment and looked at him with a frown. "Ian? Who's this?"

Ian smiled and pointed at Mickey. "Family, this is my boyfriend, Mickey." He then waved towards the Gallaghers, who were looking at Mickey, up and down, appraising the man who was with their brother.  "Mickey, my family. I swear they're nicer than they seem."

All the Gallaghers rolled their eyes simultaneously at Ian, who just laughed. Mickey cracked a smile, still visibly embarrassed. He'd have to let it go, if he didn't want to be eaten alive by Ian's family.

Ian kissed Mickey on his temple. "Let's get inside. I can already promise you a few days full of events."

 

***

 

_The night before the flight, they were all bundled up in bed, happy and sated. Mickey was snuggling against Ian. Even if he would never admit it, Mickey was quite the snuggler. Ian let him adjust in his arms, until he was with his head on Ian's chest._

_"You know," he said, looking at his fingers tracing circles on Ian's pecs. "I was thinking. You know all those crappy movies on television. The cheesy ones where the protagonists were bound to meet, no matter what the circumstances, because they were meant to be?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"So I was thinking. Isn't it a bit like us? Like. I don't think it would've changed if we were poor to begin with, or living in a different country... I think we would've found each other anyway, because I can't really see myself with anyone but you. So..."_

_Ian let out a little chuckle. He kissed his forehead. "That's like the sappiest thing I ever heard."_

_It was dark, but Ian could have bet Mickey was beet red by now. "Your fucking fault. You're influencing me with all these romantic bullshit," he grumbled. He moved to turn on his side, but Ian stopped him._

_"My bad," said Ian."But I like your new way of thinking, my lovely, sappy boyfriend."_

_"Fuck off," Mickey defended himself, but he didn't protest much when Ian went on top of him. He was already with his arms open, ready to wrap his boyfriend in a long embrace._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NMWTC ends, but I could add some new side chapters in the future. About the Gallaghers, or Alan/Mandy... who knows!  
> Plus, I'm gonna write new AUs :)
> 
> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!  
> If you wanna chat or you have any questions: my tumblr [JAinsel & the Ships](https://jainsel-and-the-ships.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> for any questions my tumblr [JAinsel & the Ships](https://jainsel-and-the-ships.tumblr.com) <3
> 
> Comments and reviews are always well accepted!! :)


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